


Red Rover

by Gamebird



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cultural Differences, Damerux, Fellatio, Frottage, Gingerpilot, Hoe - Freeform, Hux thinks he's sexually experienced but he's never even been kissed, M/M, Post-TLJ, Prisoner Hux, Some Medical Stuff, a lot of tenderness, also starring Dr. Kalonia Finn Rose C-3PO BB-8 Leia and Kylo Ren, cameos by Snap Wexley and Jessika Pava, concussion, cultural differences in sexual practices, hypoxemia, mostly canon-compliant, some violence, starwarsrarepair, which is sad when you think of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamebird/pseuds/Gamebird
Summary: After Hux is rescued from a life pod in deep space, both he and Poe Dameron decide on the same brilliant plan - to blackmail, manipulate, or seduce the other into defection or treason. Neither of them expect to catch feelings in the process.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 113
Kudos: 224
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittens/gifts).



> Beta provided by Sunny!
> 
> I play fast-and-loose with hypoxemia and mild traumatic brain injury. Do not use this fanfiction as a reliable representation of medical conditions. Terms and conditions may vary as needed for dramatic purposes. 
> 
> Star Wars Rare Pair, Request 3 by Kittens
> 
> Prologue and epilogue from Poe's point of view. Other chapters from Hux's point of view.

Poe set the life pod down carefully, magna-grappled under his x-wing. It was a tricky bit of landing that most pilots couldn't manage. Out in space, the group had suggested just towing the life pod, but the landing would necessarily be rocky if they did that. Life pods didn't have the sort of robust gravitic stabilizers to handle something like that. If BB-8's scans were right, someone was alive in that thing. A tow-behind would end up rattling them like a marble in a can and so here he was cautiously settling the pod to the deck, x-wing above it.

Once it was settled, he disengaged the locks and lifted straight up and off. Part of why it was tricky was the landing bay wasn't tall enough to give him much clearance, plus thrusters were always a bit touchy. Even getting to the side for a proper landing was difficult because he had no momentum and not enough room to overshoot without crashing into something. But he was the best pilot in the galaxy. So of course, it went off without a hitch.

Poe doffed his helmet as the cockpit slid open. He paused on the ladder to take a long look at the pod. " _Finalizer_ ," he muttered to himself, reading the markings. Louder, he told the others moving forward, "Stay back. It looks legit, but we still don't know if this thing's a bomb in disguise."

He didn't see any signs of that, which was easier to evaluate under good lighting than it had been in space when he'd made the decision to grapple the thing anyway and strap a possible mine to the bottom of his ship. It was the life signs that had motivated him. Otherwise, he'd have left it as scrap, not worth the danger. The First Order had a history of booby-trapping debris and abandoned installations, and it wasn't like they'd been all that certain of the information that had sent them to the area in the first place.

He went to the viewport, but the glass had frosted with the temperature shift from space. Unsurprising. The hatch controls looked normal and untampered with. "Here we go." He looked back to make sure everyone was as clear as they were going to get, then hit the button to open it. If it was a bomb, this would be the ignition. The hatch popped open as it was supposed to. He swung it out of the way, then waved his hand back and forth in front of his face with a grimace. "Ug. Bad air."

"Poison gas?" Jessika asked in the background, from where she had taken cover behind a launch deflector.

"No. Just stale. The air recyclers must be on their last legs." It was a smell pilots were trained to watch for. In space, bad air circulation would kill you faster than a lot of enemies. Speaking of which, inside was a dead body, collapsed face-down on the floor. "Well, that explains the smell," he said to himself grimly.

He took a deep breath and stepped in anyway. There had _been_ life signs. Had the guy died as they were bringing him in? It was a human male in the standard black uniform of First Order officers, maybe a higher-up one because the fabric looked slicker than others. Poe wasn't sure about their uniform regulations, but he'd figured out some of them got to look special while the rest looked like … the rest.

This guy had orange hair and pale skin. Poe crouched next to his crumpled form, recognizing the profile. Poe had taken a keen interest in the leaders of the First Order, what little was known of them. The man he was looking at had at least a week's worth of scruff, his hair was in disarray, and he looked jaundiced. But Poe was still fairly sure it was General Hux. He put his hand to the guy's throat. The skin was warm. He didn't find a pulse, but he didn't keep looking, either. Instead, he called out, "Get that board in here! He might be alive."


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After too long in the life pod, Hux wakes up bleary and disoriented. Poe rather inadvertently ends up holding his hand.

Hux couldn't breathe. He needed air and it was available – sweet, fresh air! – but there was something on his face blocking it. It sealed around his mouth like a mask. He reached for it, clumsily and at first he couldn't understand why he wasn't succeeding. There were people around him, but although he understood them as the cause of his failure, the part of his brain that processed them as 'people' wasn't working. They were just … things. Interfering things.

He tried to sit up. The world tipped around him and from what he could tell, he didn't actually go anywhere. Words were being spoken to him. Was he in danger? He'd been in danger before. He looked down his right arm, turning it to get his knife. It didn't come out. Someone's hand was on his forearm. Everything felt like a very bad dream. He triggered the mechanism again and again, but there was no knife.

More unintelligible words. Then, "Sir?" That was simple. He looked to the speaker, a middle-aged human woman who told him, "Breathe."

He _was_ breathing. Wasn't he?

"His name is Hux," the other person said. He was male. Hux was far from making sense of the situation, but at least he was starting to think enough to slot people and objects into major categories.

" _General_ Hux?" the woman said and probably not to him.

"Yep. The one and only," the man replied. The man was holding him down with hands on both his wrists. Hux realized he had a mask on his face, but he was breathing even with it there. They were short, rapid breaths that didn't feel right.

The woman spoke slowly. "Hux? Breathe in. There you go. Now out. Deep. Deep breaths. Take a deep breath for me. Deeper." He relaxed a little, eyes fixed on her as he focused on following the directions. His heart was beating too fast. He could hear it pounding in his ears. He felt light-headed. The air tasted good, though. The woman glanced down and said, "What is that?"

Hux tried to follow her gaze, but that seemed peculiarly difficult. The lights were very bright in here. He was distracted by the glare.

"Uh … knife scabbard," the man said. "Empty. No knife." Well. Hux could have told him that. The man pulled on his sleeve for some reason. "He hasn't been searched for weapons." Hux realized his hands were free as his wrists were no longer being held. He grabbed at the man, ending up holding his hand. That hadn't been his intention, but he held it tightly out of some primitive instinct, reaching for another person when he was in need.

The woman said, "He also hasn't been checked for other injuries." She turned to Hux. "General Hux?" Shakily, he nodded. She continued, "It's very normal to wake up confused. Your heart's racing right now. Your head probably hurts and you might be having trouble focusing. We're trying to help you. Do you understand that?"

That did seem to be an accurate assessment. He nodded again, firmer this time. He shifted his grip on Poe's hand, then looked down at that. It felt reassuring, but this man probably had an opinion about it. Was he being allowed to do this? Did the man approve of this? He shifted his grip and held on anyway. The man would pull away if he didn't want it.

He looked back at the woman as she asked, "Is there anywhere in your body that hurts?" He looked from the man to her. Was he in a medbay? He didn't recognize the place. The colors were wrong. She said, "I'm going to feel over your head." He jerked when she ran her hands behind his head and over his neck. He hadn't expected that even though she'd said what she was going to do. It felt weird. He didn't want to be touched. He squeezed the man's hand and balled his other hand into a fist, nails cutting into his palms. Where were his gloves?

"It's okay," the man said soothingly.

The woman said, "Now I'm going to check your torso. Let me know if something hurts."

Her hands made quick, firm passes over his chest and ribs. She got down to his abdomen and Hux realized she was going to go all the way down his body, touching parts he definitely did not want touched. Belatedly, he realized he might be able to stop this farce by speaking. "No. Stop. I'm … I'm fine." He let go of the man's hand and raised his to reach for her. He was damnably uncoordinated and missed, but she stopped anyway.

The man captured Hux's wrist easily and guided it back to the bed. The woman said, "That's fine. I needed to make sure you weren't going to bleed out on us from some other injury. Are you sure you're not hurt anywhere else?"

"Y-yes." He gave the man an annoyed look. The man released his wrist and took his hand. So – that was okay after all. Hux's annoyance disappeared. Maybe that was all the man had been doing – holding his hand again. It didn't make sense, but a lot of things didn't at the moment. He gave it a squeeze and got one in return.

"Okay," the woman said, bringing a flat white square from somewhere. "I'm going to put this on your skin so we can keep an eye on your vital signs for a while." She showed it to him. He had no idea what it was. She looked at the man. "Roll up his sleeve, there. The inside of the arm is fine."

The man let go of the arm he'd been holding the wrist on. Hux immediately reached up with it to touch the mask. The woman stopped the man from reaching after Hux with a quick, "No." She turned to him. "General Hux? Leave the mask on."

"It – I'm adjusting it. It itches." By now he'd figured out this was the source of the oxygen-rich fresh air he no doubt needed. But it was still snagging on facial hair that he inexplicably had. How long had he been asleep? Or unconscious? He must have been unconscious. The past was a nebulous thing. He knew his own name and that he was an officer of the First Order, but what had happened recently to land him in this predicament was unclear. Neither of these people were in the right uniform.

"Good," the woman said when he put his arm down. "Self-care is good." The man rolled up Hux's sleeve and she put the white thing on his skin.

A mechanical voice intoned, "Signals are clear. Blood pressure is high. Oxygenation is low. Cardiac rhythm is irregular. There are four other warning-"

"Yes, I know." The woman turned away, doing something outside Hux's peripheral vision. Hux tried to turn to follow her, but he felt dizzy.

The man asked, "Do we need to be worried here?"

Hux could see her shake her head. He gave up the awkward craning of his head and looked at the man. "Do I know you?" He looked vaguely familiar – wavy black hair, brown eyes, and a light-medium skin tone with his own bit of stubble, not nearly as long as Hux's beard-y growth.

The man smiled. "Poe Dameron. Commander Poe Dameron." Hux's brows drew together. That, too, was familiar and it didn't come with good connotations. But he couldn't place it. Some rival, perhaps? He was dressed in an orange flight suit. Orange was a color for technicians. Why would he have a rival among the techs? The man smirked. "You're in a Resistance base. I found your life pod drifting in space."

"Oh." He was a captive … of the Resistance? They were the enemy. He remembered the life pod now. Had his ship been destroyed? He didn't think so. Hadn't he been ordered into the life pod at blaster point?

The woman put a hand on Hux's shoulder. "You're going to be fine. But it might be an hour or two before the disorientation fades." She turned to the man. "You can let go of him now."

"Oh. Okay." The man backed off a step and they had a conversation over Hux. "What's he going to do, just lie here?"

"Yes," she answered. "I need someone to sit by and watch him while he stabilizes. Are you available?"

"Uh … I have a mission debrief I need to do."

"It can wait," she said. "Make sure he doesn't get up." To Hux she asked, "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes."

"I'll get you a hydration solution," she said.

"Water?" he asked hopefully.

"A little more than water, but close enough." She walked off.

Hux looked to the man. Poe Dameron, he'd said his name was. Hux remained taken by the impression that he should know him, which was absurd if the man was in the Resistance. "I assume I am a prisoner?"

"I don't think we've put a label on you yet. Right now, you're just that guy who was in the life pod I dragged in. I saved your life."

Commander Dameron was looking at him like that meant something and Hux was supposed to know what it was. "Am I free to go?"

"No. The good doctor said you needed to lie down for an hour or two so that's what you're going to do. I'm pretty sure I'm being assigned to watch you so she doesn't have to break out restraints. We good?"

Hux nodded. The doctor – the woman - returned. She handed Dameron (not Hux) a large container with a straw. Hux started to sit up. He was desperately thirsty now that water (or hydration) was at hand. She pushed him down, which felt like the room tilted crazily. Hux barely kept himself from scrabbling at the sides of the bed to hang on.

She said, "No. Lie down. I'm serious. You're going to be dizzy and I don't want to have to scrape you off the floor. In fact, I'm going to elevate your feet." She adjusted the bed. Hux huffed, but didn't complain. She said, "You probably have a head injury on top of everything else, but we'll take a look at that after you've had a chance to sort yourself out. You might feel okay, but you aren't."

"I never said I felt okay." He'd said he was fine, which was different. It was shorthand for, 'Leave me alone' but they didn't seem to have understood it that way. Though he had to admit he was likely better off because of it.

She nodded. "That's a very good sign that you know that." She turned to Dameron. In a very firm voice, she said, "You will not interrogate him. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," the commander said briskly. So – interrogation was the next step in the process, just delayed for now on doctor's orders. This much made sense.

"Good. I don't want to see his blood pressure rise, his heart rate elevate, or his breathing get shorter than it already is. Do not stress him. Keep him lying down. Give him as much to drink as he wants. Make sure he doesn't aspirate. Encourage him to keep the mask on but if he can't tolerate it, then it goes and it will just take him longer to recover. If you need help, yell."

"I can do that," Dameron said.

"Good." She turned to Hux. "Do you need anything?"

"No, sir." He still hadn't had a drink. Was it being withheld pending information or compliance on his part? Her concerns about him might mean she considered his condition delicate, or that she expected him to be treated roughly once released, or both. She patted his shoulder and headed off.

"She's a woman, you know," Dameron said.

"I know. I'm not that confused." He looked at the container.

Dameron offered it. "Want a drink?"

No conditions, Hux noted. "Yes," he said gratefully and drank heavily after he lifted the mask and got his lips around the straw. The stuff had an odd flavor, a faint salty-sweet mineral tang. While it seemed possible he was being drugged, he was definitely dehydrated enough not to care.

"How long were you in that thing – the life pod?" Dameron asked as Hux drank.

"I don't know. What's the date?"

Dameron told him. It was harder to make sense of the date than it should have been. He was still trying to figure it out when Dameron continued, "Was it just you? Or were there other escape pods launched? We didn't see any sign of battle debris."

Hux's expression turned sullen. "She said you weren't to interrogate me." Most irritating of all was that he wasn't absolutely certain of the answer. Many of the events in his immediate past were getting clearer, but not all of them.

Dameron took a seat and pulled it forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sure. I'm not gathering intelligence. But at the same time, I _do_ need to know if there were other pods out there we didn't find. If you were out there long enough to exhaust your air supply, then we might not have canvassed a large enough area – _if_ there were others."

That made sense. It was one of the first things that had. Even in the First Order, Hux was aware there was a sort of code of conduct to space travel, part of which involved rendering aid. Not that the First Order did it as policy, but he knew about it anyway. Apparently, the Resistance honored the custom, to which he supposed he owed his life. "I appreciate the sentiment. Even if I don't understand your desire to rescue First Order members, I appreciate your willingness to do so. But no, I believe I was the only one."

"Okay then. Next order of business." Dameron gave him a once-over with his eyes. "I need to search you for weapons and clearly you might have them hidden. Can you just come clean and tell me where they're at?"

"So you can take them from me? No."

"You tell me where they're at and I'll let you keep them."

Hux snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"

"No. I expect you to tell me and then I'll prove it. I just want to know what I need to keep an eye on and I don't want to have to … search you." Dameron sounded reluctant to do it, which didn't compute.

"So if I tell you, you won't search me? How are you to know I told you everything?"

"I'm going to trust you."

"That sounds unwise." And colossally stupid. This must be some kind of trick.

"Are you telling me we can't trust each other on this?" Dameron chided. "All this paranoia's not necessary. I saved your life."

Like that mattered! "So you've said! Now _I'm_ telling _you_ -"

A mechanical voice behind his head, probably that med-droid he'd heard earlier, interrupted them. "Blood pressure is rising. As is heart rate."

"Just calm down," Poe said quietly. "You're going to get me in trouble. I'm just flirting with you, anyway."

"Flirting?"

"Yeah, flirting." Dameron gave him a shameless smile that was oddly warm. "Might as well, if I'm going to have to run my hands all over you to check for weapons." The heavy-lidded look he gave Hux was decidedly interested and a lot less reluctant than he'd been just a few moments before.

"I'm … I'm not … actually …" Hux blinked at him as he processed what searching him would entail.

"Or we can trust each other," Dameron offered, his seductive look turning into an invitation.

Hux swallowed, his mouth dry for reasons other than dehydration. "I have a knife in each boot."

"On the inside or outside?"

"Of my leg? On the inside." Inside the leg, inside of the boot. Inside for both of them, he supposed.

"Okay. Is that it?"

"As far as I know. They took my … my blaster and the other knife." He lifted his right arm where the empty scabbard had been discovered. Enough of his memory had come back that he remembered the humiliating confrontation before he'd been herded into the life pod. There had been no chance to use the ones in his boots so he hadn't drawn attention to them.

"Uh-huh. Who's 'they'?"

And of course, the commander clued to that instantly. "Now you _are_ interrogating me," Hux groused.

"Okay, don't answer. Fine."

"I don't owe you anything," Hux said through bared teeth. The droid began talking in the background, but he ignored it to continue, "I didn't ask you to rescue me! If you want me to be grateful, then you can return me to where you found me!"

"Calm down," Dameron said gently. "Calm down. Please." He'd raised both hands, palms toward Hux and slowly moved them forward. Hux had a thought to jerk away, but the hand-holding earlier had been nice. Right now his head was pounding and nothing made sense again. He let Dameron touch his nearer hand and wrap both of his around Hux's. They were warm and human. It grounded him. "You don't owe me anything," Dameron said in a low, disappointed voice. "I get it."

Dameron held his hand for long seconds. When he let go, Hux twisted his hand and grabbed at him impulsively, keeping him there. Dameron didn't pull away. He scooted his chair forward a few inches and adjusted so the position was comfortable. When it was clear Dameron wasn't going to shake him off, Hux allowed, "I might … something." What he wanted to say was that yes, he might owe him after all, but he couldn't verbalize that – not if Dameron was in the Resistance and probably not even to another First Order officer.

Dameron chuckled ruefully, like he understood what was going unsaid. "Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?"

"Yes, I am." Hux waited to see what Dameron would say to that. He just smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled up in a way that made Hux wonder if he'd ever seen anyone else smile like that. Hux sniffed, trying to be superior and unaffected. It sounded hollow under the clear mask feeding him air. "You're not going to disarm me?"

"I said I wouldn't. If you reach down to try to draw them I will. This is the medbay. No one stabs each other here. Just like you don't get put under restraints unless it's medically necessary."

"You threatened me with restraints earlier."

"I was lying."

Hux sniffed again, raising his chin a little. "And you're the one who says we need to trust each other?"

Dameron nodded, unbothered by the accusation. "That's why I'm admitting I was lying."

Hux scoffed and finally let go of Dameron's hand. Dameron leaned back and crossed his legs, one ankle on his knee. He regarded Hux with an amused expression that made Hux feel … strange. Special somehow. It must be a side effect of his medical condition. He changed the subject. "What were you even doing in that area of space anyway?"

"Tracking your ship movements. Turned out we were a little late."

"So you weren't looking for me? There was no signal …?" His memory still wasn't perfect, but even if it wasn't working correctly, he was fairly sure he'd been dumped in a boring stretch of nothing.

"Your pod was sending out a standard distress signal, sure, but no, we weren't out there to look for you specifically." Dameron put both feet on the floor. He extended the water container to Hux for another drink, then asked, "Were you expecting us to pick you up?"

"No. I expected to die. But the chances of you randomly coming across me are very low. That was deep space, well off the usual hyperlanes. How did you know our ships were operating in that area?"

"We're on the First Order's tail a lot. We have our sources. It worked out for you, right?"

"That remains to be seen." Hux looked over at where the doctor was talking to someone else. If his eyes didn't deceive him, she was speaking to General Organa. "What is to become of me?" He tried to keep the hopelessness out of his voice.

"Have you considered defection? All the best people are doing it." Dameron's smile brightened.

"I'm not 'the best people'." Hux snorted. "That's a ridiculous suggestion. You wouldn't have me. Not after what I've done. Despite the ethics of your doctor, I'll be trotted out for a show trial and then either executed or thrown into some pit of a prison with a high enough mortality rate to be about the same thing."

Dameron shrugged. He was quiet for a little bit, then leaned forward. "You wouldn't be the first to switch sides. I'm not just talking stormtroopers, although we have a few of those. Work with me here. Make it worth my while."

Hux jerked his head around to look at Dameron. "You're suggesting I dishonor myself?"

"I'm suggesting you have more options than you're considering."

"Such as yourself?" 'Worth my while' – what exactly did that mean? It was a personal appeal, obviously, but in the Order that was code for asking for a bribe or a favor. Hux wasn't in a position to provide either. "Are you suggesting we work a deal behind your general's back?"

Dameron shrugged again. "Doesn't _have_ to be behind her back." Hux studied his face, trying to decide what he was seeing there. Dameron told him, "Stay put. I need to go see what I can arrange." Dameron hustled over to where the doctor and General Organa were standing. They were too far away and using too hushed of tones for Hux to make anything out. There were several looks over at him and a fair amount of back and forth between them. Then the general left. Dameron and the doctor came toward him.

"You said to keep him calm," Dameron told the doctor as they came near enough for Hux to make out their words. "He's calm." Dameron smirked, half laughing as he continued, "With knives in his boots. Some people are calmer that way." Dameron circled to the opposite side and resumed his seat. To him, Dameron said, "Good news. They're down with the plan. You don't have to stay in the brig. You're with me, instead. Maybe I should call you Red."

"Red?" Hux scoffed at the idea. "That was the best you could come up with? Some juvenile play on my coloration?"

"Yeah. I'm Red Leader now. You can be Red. Anyway, I didn't think Hugs would fly."

Hugs! It clicked for him suddenly – why he recognized this particular Resistance member. "You …! Yes, _that_ was you!"

"That?" Dameron asked.

"You in the starfighter over D'Qar! The madman!"

The doctor murmured, "He's got you there." The medical droid burbled a warning and she turned to face it.

Dameron laughed. "I thought you recognized me earlier. I introduced myself and everything." He gave a brash grin and put a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt, Hugs!"

"I recognize your obnoxious sense of humor!" Hux's cheeks flushed.

The doctor put a hand on Hux's shoulder. "Try to stay calm. I know it's a lot to ask."

"I'm embarrassed that I even had a civil conversation with him!"

"I know," the doctor commiserated while Dameron tried not to laugh himself to the floor. "He's a lot to take for all of us."

Hux said, "It was too much to hope he'd died over Crait!"

That stopped Dameron's humor – killed it dead. Hux took note of that. They'd devastated the Resistance there, cutting them down from forty ships to four. It was the sort of thing anyone would still be sensitive over. "Trust me," Dameron said, his voice dropping as he sobered fast, "I wished the same thing about you."

"And you still ask if I would defect?" Hux asked coldly, expecting the offer to be withdrawn now that he'd woke Dameron up to the reality of the situation.

Dameron was quiet for a long beat, then said roughly, "We can make it work."

The doctor cut in, "Poe, if this keeps up, he's going to stay the night here in the medbay. Alone."

"As opposed to …" Hux asked, "what was the other option?"

"You can go to the brig or with him," the doctor said. "It's that simple."

Hux gave the doctor a look, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, Dameron grumbled, "Fine. No arguing. Got it. The past is the past. New day and all that." He gave Hux a bland, obviously false smile. The choice Dameron wanted was clear. Why did he want that so much?

Hux sneered at him in return, but it was far from his best effort. He could refuse, get sent to the brig, be interrogated, and killed; or he could pretend to defect and perhaps find a way to escape. Put that way, it was indeed a simple choice. "When do we leave?" Hux asked.

She nodded and told him, "I want you to wait another half hour. Then I'll check the readings. If everything's good, you can get up." She looked to Dameron. "Take him to a refresher for a shower. Get him dinner. Get him a room."

"Dinner and a room," Dameron said. "Sounds romantic." He looked to Hux and deadpanned, "We have the best treatment for those who join up."

"Whatever," Dr. Kalonia said, rolling her eyes. She acted like this was all very normal – sending a prisoner off with a commander for hygiene and quartering. How was Dameron going to keep track of him while Dameron slept? She said, "My recommended treatment plan is to have you to recover for the next two cycles. Take it easy as you're able to tolerate activity."

Dameron waggled his brows, leaving Hux's imagination to fill in what 'activities' meant. "I'll make sure he doesn't get into anything too strenuous."

Hux pursed his lips, trying to work out the subtext. Or maybe it wasn't subtext at all and Hux was just being dense. He'd certainly heard stories and even repeated them himself about the immorality of the rest of the galaxy, the rebels in particular, but he'd thought there was an element of hyperbole there, some exaggeration for effect. Then again, his thinking wasn't exactly up to par.

The doctor only sighed. "Just do what he tells you. You'll be fine." To Dameron she said, "Keep it low-key and don't ask for too much. He's going to have periods of confusion. They won't be visible. You're responsible for him."

"Got it," Dameron said. And just like that, he'd been handed off to one Poe Dameron, the madman, to do with as Dameron pleased, with only the most thinly-veiled innuendo indicating exactly what would please him.

"I would like to rest now," Hux said, more subdued than he wanted to be.

The doctor said, "I think that would be a good idea."

Hux shut his eyes and pretended to rest. He had a half hour to pull himself together and come up with a plan.


	3. First Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux makes his initial attempt to put Poe in a position that would give Hux some leverage against him. And maybe soften him up in general.

"Oh, hey," a bright female voice said some time later. "I didn't know we had anyone in! What's going on here? Did something happen on the flight?"

Hux cracked his lids, but otherwise pretended to still be asleep. Dameron answered. "No, we're fine. The flight went great. No one was hurt."

"Who's this then?" With his eyes slitted, Hux could make out only that she wore the same basic uniform as the doctor. Beyond that, he wasn't savvy enough with Resistance outfits to know her importance, if any. Dameron's demeanor was casual, so Hux assumed she didn't matter.

"Guy we found in a life pod. First Order dumped him."

"Really? Why?" There was a pause and the sound of Dameron shifting slightly. Maybe it was a shrug. The woman continued, "Don't they usually just execute the people they don't want anymore?"

"Uh-huh. He's a little more highly-placed than most."

She sounded uncertain as she said, "Is that … General Hux?"

"In the flesh." Dameron's smile was audible in his voice.

"Ah. He doesn't look hurt," she said. Hux had spent many years – nearly his whole life – at the less-than-tender mercy of abusive individuals. It had given him a sensitivity to certain things. Something about her tone implied she thought he was faking illness and unworthy of treatment. He clicked to that immediately.

Dameron either didn't care or didn't notice. "He got left in the life pod too long. Mostly it's an oxygen thing. I'm told he should be fine in a day or two."

"He should have been left in there longer," she grumbled, confirming everything Hux had already suspected about her ill will toward him. "By the way, he can go. Probably best to get him out of here. Not sure why we were treating him in the first place."

"Dr. Kalonia," Dameron said, but that didn't explain anything. Hux quickly reviewed what he'd heard. Was Dr. Kalonia this person or the one who had treated him earlier? Without seeing Dameron's expression, it was impossible to tell the nuance.

The woman said, "I've seen too many friends shot to pieces to be willing to deal with the people who were on the other end of those blasters. Especially the one who was giving them orders to fire." She nudged Hux sharply in the arm. He didn't give her the satisfaction of being startled. "Get up. Get out. Just in case we need resources for _real_ patients."

"He's a real patient," Dameron said, and although the reproof in his voice was gentle, it was still there – something else Hux was sensitive to. "He almost died."

"Too bad he didn't." She looked over at Dameron as soon as Hux stirred, refusing to look at Hux. "It says to discharge him into your care?"

"Yes." Dameron stood. His eye contact with her was a little more direct than it needed to be, but if she was put off by it, she didn't show it. Awkwardly, Hux got his feet off the elevated portion and stood. The room swayed a bit, but he suspected he could walk safely. He took off the mask and took a deep breath. The air still smelled fresh to him compared to the sour tang of the life pod.

The woman asked, "Don't you need binders or for me to call security?"

"No," Dameron said, putting his arm through Hux's as though he knew he could use the support. Perhaps he'd been the one swaying and not the room? Dameron said, "I've got this."

* * *

"Sorry about that," Dameron said as they left.

"Her?"

"Yeah. I promise you that's not how we all are."

"You do, do you?" Hux gave him an arch look.

"Yes, I do," Dameron said tensely. "I knew full well that was a First Order life pod. I might not have known you particularly were in it, but I knew it wasn't some Resistance member."

Hux softened his tone a little. "Would it have mattered if you'd known it was me particularly?"

Dameron stopped in the hallway and pursed his lips, looking for all the galaxy like he was actually thinking about it. After a long moment, he said, "No. It wouldn't have mattered. Not the way you were. Now if you were alive and shooting at me, sure. I've shot down plenty of enemy pilots. They know the score. But if you were just minding your own business floating in space, going to die if no one picked you up? Yeah, I'd have done it." Dameron lifted his chin in defiance.

Hux had noticed how much Dameron wanted gratitude for saving his life. Here it was coming up a third time. He really, really wanted acknowledgement, which was convenient, as Hux's main plan involved getting Dameron to drop his guard. "Thank you."

"What?" Dameron blinked, obviously thrown by getting what he wanted.

"I said thank you. I appreciate what you did."

"Y-you do?"

"I'm alive, aren't I? As I said before, I appreciate your willingness to save lives, mine among them."

Dameron continued to stare at him as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hux waited patiently. A grin bloomed on Dameron's face. He turned his head, eyes narrowed, clearly looking as though he thought Hux were joking. "Really?" He shrugged like it was no big deal. "That's good."

"I certainly think so," Hux said, dropping his voice a little.

That had an effect, too. Dameron straightened, raked him briefly with his eyes, and then looked back and forth down the hallway. "Well, um, getting you into a refresher is our first order of business. Get it, 'First Order'?" He put a steadying hand to Hux's elbow, although Hux didn't need it at the moment. But the helpfulness, the switch to an inclusive 'our' – those things Hux noticed. They continued down the hall.

Hux gave him an amused look. "I do." They were doing an awful lot of smiling at each other. Hux tried to tell himself it was because the guy was so charmingly easy to manipulate. Dameron did not look manipulated, but charmed, maybe. Either would work.

They passed what looked like an unoccupied lounge and next to it was a marked refresher. "Let's go in here," Dameron said.

Inside was one sink, one toilet, and one shower stall, with enough empty space between them to maneuver a hover chair or maybe even a gurney. Obviously, it was used in connection with the medbay.

Dameron glanced around and said, "Yeah, this is perfect. Okay, you clean up. I'm going to go get some new clothes for both of us. I need a shower, too, after all that time in the cockpit. Just take your time."

"Can the door be locked?"

"If you lock the door, I can't get back in."

"Ah." He was more concerned about locking out random interlopers or the woman from the medbay who'd forced him to leave early. But now that Dameron mentioned it, locking _him_ out would be amusing. Counterproductive, but amusing. He wondered what Dameron might offer to get him to open the door. What was the difference between playful teasing and light-hearted extortion?

"No one knows you're in here," Dameron said. "You'll be fine."

"If they don't know I'm in here, anyone could come in," Hux countered. "It's a public refresher on an unrestricted hallway."

Dameron blew off his concerns. "You'll be fine. I'll be right back."

Once alone, Hux drank until he couldn't hold more, his thirst finally quenched. He went through his clothes to take inventory of his possessions. Other than the knives (which he still had, which was endlessly intriguing to Hux's way of thinking) there was nothing worth keeping. He shed his clothes and showered, washing away the accumulated grime from a week in a life pod, whose sanitary facilities started and ended at providing packaging for the inevitable bodily wastes. Dameron returned just as Hux was finishing – scrubbed pink and feeling alive.

He stepped out to see Dameron dumping some clothes on the counter next to the sink. Hux took down the towel from the hook next to the shower. Their eyes met through the mirror. Dameron looked him up and down twice, eyes widening slightly, lips parting. If that was anything but a look of lust, then Hux would eat his hat. Dameron followed this already salacious examination by frankly ogling him. Casual nudity wasn't a big deal in an institutionalized military organization like the First Order. Partly as a result, Hux had never had anyone look at him like that. Ever. It was flattering and frightening, both at the same time.

He tried to meet Dameron's eyes, but Dameron gave himself a little shake and looked away, then he stumbled over his words. "Um … I'm um … going to … take a shower. Yeah." Dameron cleared his throat and turned sideways, gesturing at the clothes. "The set on top is yours." He scooted past to the shower stall with his eyes pointedly averted as though that did not just draw even more attention to his behavior.

Hux stood there, stock still, facing forward, trying to decide how to respond. He felt Dameron's eyes again and saw in the mirror that the man had paused at the curtain of the shower to stare at Hux's backside. When Dameron saw he was being observed, he guiltily darted into the shower. Hux's skin prickled.

Really? _Really?_ Hux vigorously scrubbed his face dry as his thoughts swirled. He had an opportunity here. He'd already considered the possibility of molestation - there had been several signals and the complete lack of oversight was glaring. It was comforting that Dameron's response was to withdraw rather than advance, without any hint he was checking for Hux's acquiescence to an approach. Still, lust was a weakness Hux had taken advantage of in the past. It would suffice here as well.

The shower was running again. Dameron had tossed his flight suit and other assorted clothing on the floor outside the stall like he was some kind of lowlife. Hux sighed as he regarded that. To have the freedom to throw your clothing anywhere – it was boggling. This whole thing was boggling, but he didn't mind what he was about to do. He went to the shower and hung his damp towel on the hook. He pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.

Dameron whirled, pale and shocked, like a man who thought he was about to be gutted. His eyes were huge. Well. That was encouraging, to be taken so seriously. Hux raised one hand to touch Dameron's forearm in reassurance. Dameron didn't move. It didn't look like he knew why Hux was here (or rather, he still looked like he expected to die, as though the looks he'd given Hux were unpardonable). Hux went to his knees. That would remove all doubt.

And it probably did. Hux touched the side of Dameron's hip to gage his reaction. When he didn't strike him or move to cover himself, Hux leaned forward to take the tip of his penis into his mouth. Dameron gasped, but he didn't refuse or pull away, which told Hux everything he needed to know; this was wanted. He swallowed more of him down, enjoying the way the soft flesh wrinkled and squished in his mouth. Dameron was clean and wet, with a faint tang of soap telling Hux he'd already washed his groin. Well-timed, then.

He sucked softly, more savoring the experience than rushing to get the commander off. Hux knew his skills were a bit rusty. He hadn't done something like this in years, it being a social indignity for one higher ranked to take the so-called submissive position. Too bad. He preferred providing to receiving, which usually came with either disdain or guilt, thinking the one doing it was playing for advantage. Which was, of course, what Hux was doing now. He just happened to be enjoying himself as he did it.

"I, um, uh …" Poe started. Hux decided to call him by his first name. Having the man's penis in his mouth gave him permission to call him whatever he wanted, in Hux's opinion.

Matter-of-factly, Hux stopped what he was doing. "I would prefer that you not speak." A conversation was not necessary. Besides, from Poe's tone he was obviously intending to stop things, probably to 'talk', which meant stall and negotiate. Hux wouldn't be benefited by either. He took all of Poe into his mouth, curling his tongue along the underside of the penis and getting a shiver from Poe in response. Poe was hardening up nicely. Hux had to back off to avoid gagging himself. He chided himself again about being out of practice.

Poe touched at his temple. It was gentle and not presumptuous – no pulling of his hair or tipping his face to leer at him and complicate things. It was the illusion of tenderness. Hux reached up to touch Poe's hand, trying to hold it but that didn't work well when they were facing one another, right hand to left hand. Poe pulled his hand back and for a second Hux thought he'd overstepped. But then Poe's fingers touched his, maneuvered, and then slid between, entwining.

Hux opened his eyes briefly to look. No one had ever done that for him, either. Poe had held his hand at his bedside as well. It was so strange. His eyes darted up, but he didn't know what to make of Poe's expression. It was … concerned?

Hux tried to keep himself from getting lost in trying to read Poe's emotions. A surface reading was best – action was needed, not reflection. He wrapped his free hand around the base of Poe's shaft as he worked the tip with more intensity, making sure Poe couldn't thrust into his throat accidentally. Poe squeezed his hand and cursed in a hoarse, but appreciative whisper. Hux sucked him harder in response.

Breathing raggedly, Poe said, "I'm going to come." Hux knew that well enough, but he was touched by the politeness. He bobbed a few more times before shifting his hand and taking Poe deeper, trying to keep the come at the back of his mouth where it was easier to swallow. Poe's fingers tightened over his until it was nearly painful – strong hands, Hux noted. He swallowed as the man spurted down his throat. Poe released his hand when Hux switched to gentler sucking after the ejaculation ended.

When he was done, Poe pulled back. Hux let him go, rocking back on his haunches. As Poe moved, the shower spray his broad back had previously been blocking hit Hux full in the face. It was like a slap – rude and disorienting. Hux flinched. Poe interposed himself and looked apologetic. "Sorry," Poe said.

The spray in the face was off-putting and not at all in the pattern of the rest of Poe's actions. Though honestly, it was par for the course with Hux's sexual experiences. He inevitably let himself feel something softer than he should have. It was all stupidly wishful thinking. This … this was nothing but a tactic, Hux reminded himself. That was all it had ever been and ever would be.

He rose and made to leave the stall. Poe tried to touch him but Hux dodged and Poe didn't persist. He went outside dripping, taking his cold, used towel from the hook and drying himself with it. He told himself that hopefully the blow job had done some good for him overall. He wanted to do these things so badly with people, but he always felt so foul when they were done with him. He rinsed his mouth and was half-dressed in underwear and pants when Poe came out. As Poe approached him, Hux drew to attention.

"Hey," Poe said. Hux kept his expression impassive and guarded. Whatever latitude he'd earned, he'd exploit later, when his emotions weren't so mixed and when the need was more acute. "Thank you," Poe said. Hux blinked twice, quick, uncertain. His lips tensed. He gave one nod and went back to attention, trying to be the model of cooperation and compliance life in the First Order had taught him to be.

Poe put a hand on his shoulder and patted him. Hux swallowed and said nothing. This was … unnecessary and not really what he'd been expecting. Escape, survival, or simply his living conditions depended on Poe's whim, as far as Hux could tell. He wanted to influence that, but he'd expected something more grudging or more likely not even acknowledged out loud. Overt gratitude was not something that happened. It made him feel … weird. Like that expression he'd seen on Poe's face when he'd looked up – that was not normal. Nor were these … butterflies in his stomach.

Hux pulled away to finish dressing and Poe went off to dry more thoroughly. Hux kept his boots because there was nowhere else to stow his knives. The rest of the clothing fit strangely, hanging on him as though made for someone wider and shorter. He was used to custom-fitted uniforms, sized by droids and adjusted to his form – not this mass-produced approximation. He was fussing over it when Poe came to him and reached for his throat. Hux jerked upward, hands half-rising to defend himself.

"Relax," Poe said. "I'm not …" He paused. Hux lowered his hands. Poe continued, slowing his motions a little. "I'm not doing anything. I'm making this look right. Okay?"

"Yes." He barely avoided putting a 'sir' behind it. He felt jittery. He felt every warm, inadvertent touch of Poe's fingers against his skin as he released the top clasps and loosened the shirt collar. The fellatio itself had given him no problems, but he was beginning to feel light-headed and foggy-brained from this building tension between them as Poe didn't play the expected role of smug superiority. "You're undressing me?"

Their eyes met. There was something very steady, rock-solid, in Poe's gaze. It helped. It cut through the fog like a lightsaber and grounded him, just like holding hands earlier. "No," Poe said quietly, then went on with adjusting the hang of the garments. "This looks good. Let me do your hair." There had been a comb with the hygiene supplies. Poe grabbed it.

"I already did," Hux protested.

"Yeah, and it looks like your mug shot from the Order. You need to look different. Blend in. Like a spy."

"Mug shot? I am not a spy. I did not come here on purpose. I was brought-"

Poe touched the back of Hux's neck with his free hand – more warm and tingly and hard to deal with. It shut Hux up. His heart was beating too fast again. He could feel it pounding in his chest. He wanted Poe to look at him again. Maybe that would help. But instead Poe said, "Yeah, I know. Tip your head. I'm not that tall." Hux complied, looking down at Poe's feet. He missed Poe's hand when it moved from his neck. Poe asked, "Do you intend to go back?"

Hux was quiet and looked away, remembering Poe wanted him to defect. That made the desired answer clear. The tip of his tongue touched his lips briefly. "No. Obviously not."

"You look nice this way." Poe set aside the comb and looked into his eyes. "You're going to be okay here. You know. Regardless." Poe waved at the shower, not moving from the intimate proximity needed for combing his hair. This was not a case of Resistance personal space being different from the Order (although the two were rather different). It was more.

Hux shivered. "Good," Hux said. "That's- That's my intention." But he couldn't keep the annoyed edge out of his voice. He was angry, but he didn't know why. He was getting what he wanted, right? But for some reason, everything seemed off. Poe wasn't supposed to be _nice_ about this.

"Alright then," Poe said with a heavy breath. He still hadn't stepped way. "Next up is dinner. Hungry?"

Hux declined to point out he'd just swallowed Poe's come. "Yes."

"You say 'yes' a lot." Poe haphazardly bundled their old clothes and tucked them under an arm. He took a half step away to do it.

There was something about that, too – for Poe to criticize his cooperation got under his skin and destroyed his carefully planned scheme. Hux's tone turned snide. "Would you prefer I were saying 'no' and giving you an excuse to brutalize me into compliance?" _That_ was what Hux expected. _That_ was why he was doing this!

"What?"

"I know what will happen if I fight you. The faster we get past this strange sentimentality, the better!" There was a sort of static in his ears. He knew he shouldn't have said that. He should have just used Poe's friendliness to his advantage instead of arguing about it. He was floundering now.

Poe blinked at him. "No. We don't do that here. We're not the First Order."

"The hypocrisy of that! But you accept sexual favors from prisoners? There's no need to be coy here. If we were under surveillance, you would have mentioned it." Hux leaned against the counter in case he needed it for support. This was falling apart fast and so was he.

Bitterly, Poe said, "Well. The blackmail starts early, does it?"

"Would you have preferred I waited until the period of medical reprieve was over?"

"Is that what you think? That once that's up we're going to … hurt you? Torture you?"

"Of course, you will!" The faster they laid bare the lies, the better. He felt cornered. He couldn't think of any options except to keep plowing ahead, snarling and threatening.

Poe shot a suspicious look at the shower, then cut his eyes back to Hux. "If you … If you didn't want to do that …"

"What I want is to keep myself alive and hopefully less tortured than I would be otherwise." Hux narrowed his eyes at Poe. "Tell me – is it likely to work with you?" Everything felt tunnel-visioned. He was having a hard time staying focused on the logic of what he was saying.

Poe was silent a beat. His expression was rattled. "Well, uh … yeah?"

"Good." Hux relaxed, slumping against the counter. Maybe this would work after all. "Good," he said again, quietly and to himself. It felt like his legs were giving out. His awareness must have flickered because Poe was suddenly next to him, an arm around his back and the clothes abandoned on the floor. "What?" Hux said weakly as he got his bearings again. He was wedged between Poe and the counter.

"You with me?"

"Yes." His voice was obnoxiously shaky.

Poe chuckled. "You know, the thing about that 'yes' is that it keeps sounding like there's more you're going to say but nothing else comes out."

Hux cleared his throat and firmed his voice. "I'm much more used to saying, 'yes sir'."

"Oh!" Poe shifted so he was only holding him rather than holding him up. "I get it now." He carried on like they were having a normal conversation and Hux hadn't just passed out on his feet, or nearly so. "You doing okay? You got this?"

Hux nodded and disentangled himself. He liked the embrace, though. Inwardly, he wanted to sneer at himself for his weakness. He was supposed to be the one pulling one over on Commander Dameron of the Resistance. Not the other way around! He may well have botched his whole plan by revealing so much.

Poe stepped aside and squatted to recover the clothes. "You really think I'm going to kill you?" Poe said as he gathered things up. "I gotta ask." He sounded disappointed of all things.

Hux sighed. "Maybe _you_ won't," he conceded. "But did you not hear your own technician? I am not worthy of medical care."

Poe stood, clothes tucked under his arm. "Okay. You have a point. But _I_ won't. Trust me a little here?"

Hux looked at the door, thinking about dinner, thinking about making some other cutting retort about not being worthy of food, either, apparently. But that was mean and unwarranted. He found himself reluctant to say that sort of thing, and disappointed he already had in this conversation. His feelings were a mess. "Yes, I do," he said fast and low, uncomfortable with the admission. He stood there awkwardly, staring at the door and hoping Poe got the hint that Hux couldn't ask him for food or water or aid. Not directly.

Maybe Poe got the hint after all. "Okay. Let's go." Poe put his free hand on Hux's elbow to guide him or keep him walking straight. Hux didn't need it, but he didn't refuse it either. He was looking at the structure of the corridors, trying to draw conclusions about the layout for the support struts and conduits. Surely these things would indicate whether he was on a ship or a planet. He'd seen them daily, lived on both, so it should be obvious, right?

A voice cut into his contemplations. " _That's_ who you found in that life pod I heard about?" They had come to an intersection. The voice was from the woman who'd infiltrated the _Supremacy_ to disable the hyperspace tracker. What had been her name? The man next to her was Finn, the defected stormtrooper FN-2187. He recalled that much, but the woman with him had been a nobody from the Otomok system.

"Yeah," Poe said. "His name's Red."

"Is that what he told you?" she said too loudly. Hux frowned at the woman and Finn both. Finn wasn't quite glowering at him, but close.

"No!" Poe left Hux's side and took two quick steps forward. He lowered his voice. "That's what we're telling people. It's not like anyone else here has met him personally. I just don't want any trouble from anyone who might think they need to, like, strike back for Hosnian Prime or something."

"You should have left him out there," she growled, but even though her words were much the same as the woman in the medbay (Dr. Kalonia?), they didn't set off the same warning bells. Finn made a sort of facial shrug and moved to the opposite side of the corridor from where Poe and the woman were whispering loudly. Hux scowled at him.

Poe ran a hand through his damp hair as he talked to the woman. "Listen, I've already had this discussion at some length. I'm not leaving life pods in space when there are life signs in them. It's not like it came with a contents label. And if it had-" He shook his head. Hux bared his teeth at Finn.

Finn laughed lightly, unimpressed. Poe looked between the two of them. Hux fixed his face when he saw Poe was looking. Poe seemed about to say something, but the woman tugged on his arm and said, "If it had, no one would have judged you."

"Maybe they should."

"What about Hayes? What about everywhere? What about stopping it from happening again anywhere?"

Seeing Poe was distracted, Hux gave Finn a smug look. Finn narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, looking puzzled. Hux let the smugness fade and breathed out a bit, lips pursed contemplatively. Were they having a conversation here? It seemed they were.

"Shh," Poe said to the woman. "Hold your voice down. You of all people? I mean, come on." He gestured at Finn, who made another slight shrug and raised his brows at Hux. It looked like some manner of invitation.

She said, "Finn changed sides."

"Which goes to show," Poe said, "people _can_ change sides."

Finn nodded. Hux pulled his head back and straightened, chin up. _He_ hadn't changed sides, although things would get messy fast if Dameron pressed him on whether he intended to.

The woman said, "Finn didn't perform atrocities first."

Hux's eyes cut toward the woman, then back to Finn. Finn grimaced, like her point was inconvenient. Which meant … it sort of implied … Finn wasn't entirely against him.

Poe said, "And Hux wasn't performing any when I picked him up, either. He needed our help. He got it. He just got here a few hours ago, okay? Let the guy get dinner. We'll sort out who needs to do what to make up for stuff later."

"He cannot make up for that," she hissed. "That's my point."

Hux relaxed. Sort of a depressed slump. He gave her an unhappy look, which she saw as she was facing his way. Poe was not.

Poe sighed and made a helpless gesture down one of the corridors. "Can we just go inside and get something to eat?"

"Do I have to eat with him?" she asked, which again, something about that signaled she wasn't a danger. Maybe it was that by asking the question, she indicated she _was_ willing to eat with him – she just wanted an opportunity to rant about it first. Sort of made him wonder what Finn had had to go through initially with her.

Finn waved a hand to get his attention, then stuck his tongue out at Hux. It was bizarre enough to get a shocked look from him. It shook him out of the depression of listening to someone hate on him.

"No, you don't," Poe said to the woman. "Why would you 'have' to?"

She said, "I guess I'm still angry about him trying to have me executed."

Hux made an exaggerated face of disapproval in Finn's direction, but in his mind he was mocking the woman. He couldn't really say he'd come out on top of that encounter.

Finn snorted and laughed into his hand. Poe looked at him, then at Hux, who gave him a look of innocence. Poe asked, "What? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Finn said, still laughing behind his hand.

Rose sighed. "They're making faces at each other."

"They are?" Poe looked at Finn, who just looked away without denying it. Poe looked perplexed. Hux had to admit it was juvenile, but he felt strangely better for doing it. At least Finn didn't seem to hate him. Which he had every reason to hate him. Maybe Finn wouldn't kill him either. Finn, Poe, that first doctor – things were looking up.

"Let's go inside," she told Poe. "You're right."


	4. Second Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Hux doesn't care about manipulating Poe. He just wants a little more of what he got before. He ends up getting a LOT more.

She ended up sitting with them anyway. He should have been cheered by that and he supposed he was, but the continued tension was eating him alive. Hux ignored her in favor of examining the tray of food he'd been given. He was hungry, but the immediate prospect of putting food in his mouth was nauseating. He was still arranging his food when a pair of people in flight suits came by.

The woman said, "So there he is! Looking lively! We weren't so sure about you at first."

"Didn't know if you'd make it," the bearded man said. "Yeah. Glad to see you're alive. The only reason we even brought the pod with us is because Poe insisted he could make that landing." He looked to Poe. "I don't think I mentioned it, but hey, great landing."

"No, you didn't mention it," Poe said, smiling. "But you can again if you want."

"Great landing!"

Poe laughed.

"What were you doing out there anyway?" the woman asked Hux.

"Floating," Hux answered, uninterested in sharing more than he had to.

Poe said, "Hey, when you've had enough of the First Order, you've had enough. Right?"

"Right," Hux said with an empty voice. He put his utensils down and stared at his tray. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to eat any of this. There were so many voices and assorted noises that they blended into a dull roar that muffled his awareness.

A couple more people arrived to join the first, these in coveralls of some sort. "Oh hey! Is this the new guy?"

There were just too many people. The place was too crowded. The food smelled – all of it, and most of it smelled strange. It was bright. People were talking and laughing and carrying on. Right across from him was a woman hated him and he'd tried to have put to death. And Poe next to him, was an unreliable protector despite his good intentions.

"Yeah," Poe told them after a beat. "His name's Red. Just joined." Hux stared blankly at his tray. The food sort of blurred together.

If there were signals exchanged between Poe, Finn, and the woman with Finn, Hux missed them. But he didn't miss when Finn stood up abruptly, raising his hands and projecting cheer. "Hey! Yeah, it's great, but let's give the man some space."

"He's already had some space," the bearded guy said, laughing at his own joke.

"Good one," Finn said. But he still herded them away from the table. "He's a little overwhelmed right now. We'll catch you later and fill you in." How had he known? Why did he care? Hux looked after him dumbly.

"Sure," the flight-suited woman said, going along with Finn's suggestion. The coverall people nodded and the group of them drifted off to their own table.

Poe scooted over a few inches and slipped an arm around Hux's waist. Hux was of two minds about that – Poe had to feel him shaking, and was such a public display allowed? Poe leaned in. "Easy, buddy. Finn's running interference. It'll quiet down in a moment. Just breathe. You're alright. You're okay." Hux took in and released a shuddering breath. "There you go. Keep doing that."

"You're … right next to me. Is that normal?"

"It's normal for me. I'm a touchy guy. You look like you're going to pieces. Do you want me to get you out of here or are you going to pull through where you're at?"

"I want to eat." He had not yet put so much as a spoonful in his mouth.

Poe nodded. "Okay. No problem." He moved back to his previous position, sitting apart. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Hux shrugged. He picked up his fork and scooped at a yellow pudding that would have been easier to eat with his spoon. But the fork was what he had in his hand. All he wanted was a taste. Maybe to see how his stomach would react to it.

Finn sat back down.

The woman asked, "How long was he in the pod?"

Poe shook his head. "A week or so. They come with food, though. Usually. Some."

"There were … ration bars. And pouches." Hux was still holding the fork halfway to his mouth. He didn't know why he hadn't finished. There just seemed to be so much going on. His head was full of static.

"Go ahead and eat that," Poe urged him.

Instead, Hux said, "Nothing is making sense." The fork was shaking. He looked around the room, too confused to put his thoughts together. Panic was beginning to rise again at what might happen if he couldn't pull through this. He felt hot. He could feel his heartbeat. Poe put a hand on Hux's forearm.

Hux jerked it away, losing most of the forkful of pudding onto the protein patty on his plate – or 'meat loaf', whatever the Resistance wanted to call it. What little was left on the fork went in his mouth. It tasted … sweet. Too sweet. Creamy. Otherwise inoffensive. He didn't feel an urge to vomit, so there was that.

Poe watched him for a moment, then said to the woman and Finn, "Dr. Kalonia said this might happen. And not to stress him. Thanks for heading off the crowd, Finn. He's not ready for it. But I think I need to get him out of here." To Hux, Poe said, "Come on."

"I want to eat," Hux said again, his voice coming out doggedly insistent and petulant. Stubbornly, he took up a second forkful of pudding. This time he ate it without Poe's interference, though Hux watched him out of the corner of his eye and had a vague plan of stabbing him with the fork if Poe tried anything. He managed a small bite of each thing on his tray as Poe continued to watch.

Poe said gently. "Eat whatever you want. Take as long as you need."

"What happened to him?" the woman asked and there was that tone again that didn't sound like a threat.

Poe shrugged. "Dr. Kalonia used some words. She said he needed a couple days of rest to get his head back together."

"Because he was alone?" she looked dubious.

"No. Because he was ..." Poe hesitated. "He was unconscious when we found him. The air recyclers had given out, or were giving out."

"Oh." She straightened, understanding blooming.

"What?" Finn asked.

Poe said, "Just pretend he's been hit in the head really hard." Finn nodded.

Hux made a put-out noise. "No pretending needed."

Poe chuckled and said, "I know. It's rude that we're talking about you. But you're busy eating, so keep doing that."

"I … I can't." There was hardly anything gone from his plate aside from half the pudding and the taste he'd taken of each item. But he felt defeated by the confusion, the pounding of his pulse, and the damn trembling of his extremities that he couldn't squelch as long as he was in here with all this noise and confusion. The mostly full tray taunted him. In the Order, leaving behind food got you disciplined and starved for a meal or two so you could learn your lesson. But maybe they'd make an exception here given the medical exemption he assumed he was operating under.

There was a long pause. Poe asked, "Will you come with me? I have an idea."

Hux nodded. Poe hooked a hand under his armpit and helped him up.

* * *

Whatever that idea was, Hux didn't worry himself over it. He went where he was directed. Poe steered. He ended up in a room that looked like someone's quarters – occupied quarters, although the owner wasn't there. Hux was sat down on the bed and left there as Poe departed. It didn't feel like he was gone for very long before he was back – Hux realized he must have zoned out for at least ten or fifteen minutes because Poe had a tray from the mess hall. On it was some manner of red clustering fruit, a roll, and a container of the same pudding he'd started with earlier.

Poe pulled over a flimsy chair and sat in it. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I did yesterday."

"Yeah? How did you feel then?"

"My head was throbbing so badly I couldn't think. In retrospect, I should have done something about the air recyclers, but I was too disoriented to even realize what was causing it." Hux leaned back on one hand and touched his forehead with the other. There was a sore area just past his hairline. "I must have fell when I passed out."

Poe nodded. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He picked off one of the fruits and examined it. "They call this a jogunberry, but jogunfruit grows on a tree, not a vine, so I think it's just a case of them naming something after the color instead of it being related."

"How do you know that grew on a vine?"

"The stem."

"I don't understand."

"My dad was an arborist. I know more about trees than I need to." Poe rolled his eyes and offered the fruit. "Are you hungry?"

Hux looked at the fruit, extended at a distance for an easy reach with the way he was leaning back. Instead, he came forward, mouth open enough to telegraph his intent. Poe didn't pull back. Hux took the 'berry' from his hand using his mouth. His lips touched Poe's fingers somewhat.

Poe's lids hooded a little. "What are you doing, General?"

"Seducing you." The fruit was sweet enough with a light citrus tang. It was bland for a ripe fruit in Hux's limited experience, but bland food was what he wanted at the moment so it was perfect. Poe had brought him food when he didn't need to, had brought him here to his quarters (Hux had figured that much out) and wasn't acting at all like he expected anything of it. Hux was tired and lost and felt raw, but most of all he wanted that illusion of tenderness he'd had earlier.

Poe smiled slowly, colored a little, and plucked off another fruit.

"Is it working?" Hux asked.

Poe offered him the next fruit as before, but this time Hux didn't have to lean forward for it. Poe brought it to his lips. Hux licked Poe's fingers unnecessarily before taking it. Poe drew in a deep breath, then licked his own lips. "It's not really … what I was expecting with you." He chuckled. "I thought you already had enough blackmail material on me."

"And so you," Hux spoke slowly, it taking longer than it should to put together in his head, "thought that was it between us – just the once?"

"Yeah." Poe ate a berry himself.

"I could always use more. It makes things harder to deny."

"I should have stopped you in that shower." Poe presented him with a third berry. Hux licked Poe's fingers, sucked at them, and took the fruit as a side effect. His main interest was Poe's hand. Poe didn't withdraw it immediately and Hux rubbed his cheek against Poe's palm, looking up at him. Poe's lids were heavy, his gaze smoldering.

"But you didn't. Just as you aren't stopping me now." Hux was enjoying this. It was altogether ridiculous and novel, like something out of one of those holodramas he wasn't supposed to have watched. Maybe that was what inspired the expression Hux adopted.

However he looked must have been appealing. Poe swallowed and set aside the tray, then came forward. Hux backed up, giving him room on the bed. Poe only said, "Your plan is working."

"Good," Hux said. "I'm glad to know my time here will at least be pleasant."

"I can give you better than pleasant," Poe said, nudging him onto his back. He was positioning himself to bring their faces together. Hux's eyes widened as he realized what Poe was going to do. Poe paused. "Do they not do kissing in the First Order?"

Hux breathed out. He'd been right about Poe's intention. "Not often." He closed the distance, lips parted until they plumped against Poe's. He felt clumsy at it. His neck was strained upward and he didn't feel like he was using the right degree of pressure. Poe was turning his head oddly and evading him for some reason. Their noses smooshed together and their teeth clacked painfully at one point.

After a moment, Poe pulled back and grinned broadly at him. "Lay down," Poe said, angling himself and coming in for another kiss. When Hux tried to rise to meet him again, Poe put a hand on his chest and said, "Lay down. Just relax. Let me do this, then join in. Okay?"

Hux huffed, but relaxed against the bed. He wanted more, badly. Every touch was new and previously forbidden. "Yes, well. I suppose my inexperience is obvious."

Still grinning, Poe said, "It's fine. It's really charming. After how incredible that blow job was, I wouldn't have expected this, but this is all a big surprise." The last words were spoken against Hux's lips and then Poe was caressing Hux's mouth with his own. Hux made a soft, tense moan that was more like a whine. He worried the sound was shameful, but Poe didn't give any indication of that.

Instead, Poe's hand stroked his cheek as their lips worked against one another more gently than before. It felt incredible, awakening something akin to a hunger or a yearning inside of him. Maybe this was why you weren't allowed to kiss? Hux didn't know what to do with his hands. One of them was awkwardly wedged between them. The other was technically free, but busy gripping the blanket. Poe stopped touching his face and reached down his body, cupping his groin. He was going so fast. Hux drew in breath quickly. He wasn't hard, but he found himself becoming so. He moaned again, louder and less restrained this time.

"Yeah," Poe paused to whisper into the corner of his mouth. "Oh yeah." He kissed along Hux's upper cheek as his hand continued rubbing him to full erection. He had no idea why Poe was doing that, but it felt good. It felt fantastic. He moved his legs restlessly. He wanted to just let his eyes roll back and take everything he was given, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He could feel Poe's hardness against the back of the hand trapped between them.

"Do you have lubricant?"

Poe popped up from where he'd been nibbling at Hux's neck under the beard line. "Uh, yeah. Up there. To the left." He pointed. "You're closer."

Hux looked. There was an entire bottle of clear gel or liquid. Besides the fact that it was rather obvious and indiscreet to just have it there in the open, it was _an entire bottle_. "The- the bottle?"

"Yeah, right there."

"You have an entire bottle?"

"Yeah," Poe said slowly. "Why is that weird?" When Hux didn't answer immediately (he'd reached out for the bottle and was now marveling at the thing – the label even had a small cartoon posterior in case one was unclear as to what it was for), Poe said, "Do you have- No, wait, you have lubricant in the Order or you wouldn't have asked if I had any."

"Yes, but we- we don't have this much. It's illicit for non-medical uses."

"It's-" Poe looked flummoxed. "Okay. No wonder you give such good head. Well, you're not in the Order anymore. Let me see that."

Hux handed it to him and saw to the mechanics of getting off his clothes. The boots had to go, too. Poe only took off his top, whatever necklace he wore, and opened his trousers. Hux turned belly down on the bed, ass-up. "No," Poe said, urging him over. "Roll over. I want to see you."

"Oh … alright." Hux moved face-up. He was aware this was a position, but he'd never had sex in it. He'd only had anal sex twice, as far as that went. One had been unpleasant due to the partner and circumstances. The other had been passable but he really hadn't enjoyed it. He'd heard it got better, but after the twice, he'd taken to volunteering his mouth. He wondered if he should do that now.

Before he could offer, Poe squelched lube into his own palm and reached over to Hux's penis, ignoring his spread legs. Between fetching lube, taking off clothes, and worrying about the position, he'd lost his erection. It wasn't necessary anyway. At least, that was his understanding of it. Poe seemed to have a different one, slicking his shaft and descending on his mouth again. Hux shivered and his hips bucked under the man's touch.

"You okay?" Poe asked, still working him with his hand and now rubbing his nose against Hux's to ask the question.

"Yes. I … this isn't necessary. You can just …"

"I can just what?"

"You can just fuck me."

"Ah, yeah, well, I came like, an hour ago and I don't think I can manage the raging boner I'd need for that right now. But I can probably get off again. Let's just do this together this time."

"Together?" Hux squawked.

Poe's hand stopped. "Uh-huh. Together. Like, both of us."

He looked so confused about why that was a question that Hux laughed and explained, "Only married people get off _together_."

Poe's mouth gaped, then broadened into a toothy grin of realization. It morphed a third time into delight and a silent laugh. "Well Hugs, we're not married and we're going to get off together anyway. Come here." He kissed him again, more passionately than before. His tongue licked at Hux's even as Poe's hand pumped wetly at Hux's newly burgeoning erection.

Hux finally realized what he needed to do with his hands, or at least the one between them. He had a little more space with it at the moment and shifted to free it. He could turn his wrist and awkwardly grasp Poe's cock, which he did. Poe paused to give him a good smear of lube before going right back at it.

Hux moaned into his mouth again as Poe pressed his tongue inside. Then Hux tried to fellate it, sucking at the fleshy member. A second later, Poe pulled back with a perplexed look on his face.

"What?" Hux asked.

"What are you doing?"

"What am I supposed to do with a tongue in my mouth?"

Poe laughed. "This is fantastic. I love it." He climbed on top, settling between Hux's legs so apparently they would have sex after all. Hux pulled his knees up and tried to work out how to cant his hips properly. Poe gave him several quick smooches (no tongue) and said, "You are wonderful. Full of surprises. I like that."

The praise – unwarranted and unexpected – was intoxicating. Hux stared up at him slack-jawed and wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat at how easily Poe had said that. Poe didn't notice the reaction. He was busy shoving down his own pants to his knees and muttering about how he should have done that earlier. Then he was back on him, lying atop Hux, and putting their erections together instead of arranging himself for penetration.

"Yes," Hux squeaked, trying to come back to his senses. "Yes, of course." He leaned his head to the side as he tried to work out what Poe was doing. He was … jerking them both off. Sort of. Mostly. But it definitely wasn't the fucking Hux had expected. Poe had big hands but they weren't big enough to fully encircle both of them. It was nice, though – a slippery, shifting grip sliding up and down both of them, hot and wet and lovely.

Hux kissed Poe's cheek. His hands slid up and then down the man's waist, over all that deliciously bared, naked skin. His hands trembled at it. Poe nibbled on his neck and made a sound of pleasure. Hux rolled his hands further down, but carefully, touching the man's ample rump, hypersensitive to any ill reaction.

But there was none. Not even when he kneaded the muscle - Poe growled then and moved faster, like he liked it. Most of the motion was his hand. The rest was his hips, cheeks flexing delightfully under Hux's hands. Poe was holding himself up with his elbow on the mattress, but it still gave Hux the strangest sensation of being covered – wanted – claimed. Poe was literally on top of him and not just behind him or standing or sitting nearby while he serviced him. They were touching – all over, without reservation. Hux wanted to wallow in it and keep this experience for himself forever.

He wrapped his legs around the man's ass and bucked up into him, holding them tightly together for a long, shuddering moment – a deep, reverberating climax of it's own, though nonsexual. Poe let it happen, almost like he knew what it meant. He merely nuzzled at Hux's neck, unable to do more than flex his fingers with the hand jammed between them. Hux felt strange, hugging someone like this, so intimately, so much skin contact. He couldn't quite get his breath, like he wanted to sob or something. There was a pressure in his chest and his sinuses.

"You okay?" Poe asked quietly, still peppering the line of his shoulder with tiny kisses, more affection than Hux had had in all his sexual encounters put together.

Hux nodded jerkily. "I don't know what to do. I don't know …" He felt like he was drugged, but in the best way – fulfilled, satisfied. He worried how he'd manage when they were done.

Poe moved his head back to nose at Hux's ear. "Do you want to take a break?"

"No! I-I don't …" The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't want this to end. It was so much like kindness. It was like those dreams he woke from crying, but could never remember the content of them once fully awake.

Poe shifted his hips and Hux loosened with his legs, creating a little space between them. "Reach between us and take over on me, okay?"

Hux put his own hand between them, stroking gently, finding himself a little in having something to do. Poe gasped softly in his ear. It was the most erotic sound. Not to mention the help allowed Poe to focus on Hux's shaft alone, enveloping him more securely and getting in a longer stroke. Hux had to shift his grip a little to avoid barking their knuckles on one another. The stimulation didn't cause the emotional high to abate. It just added onto it.

He pressed his head back into the pillow, letting his eyes roll back as he jerked faster as though he were masturbating himself. He'd never felt so alive, like every part of him was alight. Poe picked up his pace in tandem with Hux's, their bodies moving together. This felt better than anything he'd ever had before. It felt as good as he'd been told it _should_ feel and yet it never had. He could feel the edge of his orgasm skating closer with every stroke of Poe's fist and every shift of his hips over him. With his free hand, Hux pulled Poe to him, nipping at his shoulder, tasting the sweat on the man's skin.

"Oh!" Poe said loudly in his ear. "Yes, more of that!"

Hux's grip tightened and he bit down harder, like a possessive beast on a thing he refused to give up or share.

"Oh kriff yes!" Poe said, his breathing turning ragged. He was close, and vocal, more than he'd been in the shower. "More!"

Hux could feel his own climax rushing over him as he pumped faster with his fist and sucked at the man's throat. Poe's chest was against his, shifting with the motions of his hip and shoulder as he kept fisting Hux's erection, taking him higher and higher. He came in a rush when he felt Poe shudder over him in orgasm. Hot ejaculate spurted over his belly so closely timed that he didn't know which was from who.

Hux released with his mouth. His teeth peeled off Poe's skin with an odd tackiness. He didn't taste blood, though, so there was that. Poe still gasped at it and breathed half of a grateful word. The man's breath stuttered on the last half and his hips rutted against him a few times, like the release of the bite had triggered some involuntary aftershock. Laboriously, Poe pushed himself back up. Hux didn't want to let him go, but he slid his legs flat on the bed anyway. It was over; Poe would leave. But at least he had this memory – the taste, the feel, the knowledge of what could be.

Poe seemed unfamiliar with the usual schedule of events. He didn't move away immediately. Instead, he let his head sag and his forehead rest on Hux's shoulder. "Oh yes, that was everything. So good. So good." He petted Hux's shoulder.

"Was it?" Hux asked, not done with hearing such unfettered praise, whether he deserved it or not.

"Yeah, it was." Poe lifted his head, lids heavy, and opened his mouth to continue telling Hux exactly what he wanted to hear. But the door chimed.


	5. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a love story without a bunch of other stuff to get in the way?

"What?" Poe said instead. "Kriff!" Poe leaped out of bed so athletically that Hux jerked back. "Who is it?" Poe asked, yanking up his pants and fastening them. He looked around for his shirt, grabbing it and struggling to get it on. There was no answer at the door except another chime. "Kriffing auto-intercom is supposed to work …"

Hux just watched. His knees were splayed. Ejaculate was pooled on his belly and beginning to drip uncomfortably down his side. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and there was moisture on his face that he would claim was sweat but was probably tears.

Poe started to reach for the door, then jumped as he glanced back at Hux. "Force! Put something on!"

"What?"

Poe made an exasperated noise and whipped the blanket off the top bunk. He threw it over Hux. "We're not supposed to be fucking. I'll get in trouble!"

"Oh."

"You know that!"

Yes, Hux did. He wasn't sure what to do about it. He was still reeling from mind-blowing sex. "Can't you just not answer the door?" He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and made sure the rest of him was covered.

"I'm in charge of you. They might need to-" Poe shook his head and activated the door. "Yes?" Outside stood a gold-colored protocol droid. "3PO? Uh …"

"Commander Dameron! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!"

"These are my quarters. Why didn't you check here first?" Poe shook his head. "Never mind. What do you want?"

"I am at your service, sir. As you know, I have been tasked with keeping track of domestic resource allocation," the droid chirruped along with characteristic jerky tilts of upper body and arms. "I have been told to contact you to see if you require service for our newest guest." 3PO waved a stiff arm at Hux.

"No. No, we're good," Poe said woodenly. "We don't need anything."

"If I may say so, sir, you appear disheveled. Is everything alright?"

"We're fine." Poe swiped a hand through his dark hair. "Just, uh, a little hot in here."

"Oh my. You need medical care. Was there a disturbance?"

"What?"

With a jerky motion of its arm, the droid pointed at Poe's neck.

Poe reached up to the rather vivid bite mark. Hux felt his skin heat. He had no idea why he'd done that – aside from Poe's encouragement, it had simply felt … instinctual. He'd never been so bold as to leave a mark on someone. It was a prosecutable offense – which … well, maybe that was why he'd done it. He hadn't really been thinking at the time, not with Poe huffing and groaning in his ear.

Poe said, "Uh, no, that's fine. We're all good here. Trust me." Poe reached for the door switch.

The droid took two mincing steps forward to put itself in the doorway. "I had been told I needed to work with you to arrange a room and perhaps … em," the droid peered at Hux, "clothing? It looks like you are in dreadful need."

"No, his clothing's just on the floor. 3PO, go back and tell the general I have it all under control, everything's fine." Poe tried to herd the droid back out the door.

3PO swiveled from Hux to Poe a couple times. "He's naked, sir? Oh dear."

"It's fine. He's not- It doesn't matter. He'll be dressed later. _We don't need your help_ ," Poe said with emphasis.

C-3PO stiffened. "Well, obviously not. I suppose this is not an unusual situation for you – naked people in your room."

"What?" Poe said in offense.

"The droids do talk, sir."

"Listen, you're a protocol droid. You should know better!" A ball droid rolled past the protocol droid and then past Poe with a friendly beep. In a totally different tone of voice – much more convivial – Poe said, "Oh hey, BB."

"Well, I never!" C-3PO said. "I am only trying to follow my orders! Something more people around here need to do!"

"Okay, good. You do that." Poe reached out and pushed the droid back two steps since C-3PO obviously wasn't going to go without a shove. "Tell whoever you want. You're going to anyway."

"Are you accusing me of being a gossip?"

Poe stepped back and reached for the door switch again. "I'm just stating the facts. Good-bye." He shut the door, missing whatever retort the droid might have made. Poe turned around and ran a hand through his hair. The ball droid was behind him, peering at Hux. It swiveled its head to beep something querulous at Poe. Poe rolled his eyes. "Not you, too, BB! And quit telling C-3PO about who I have in here or I'll tell him about you and CB."

The droid made a few rude noises and trundled off to the other end of the quarters, disappearing behind the half-enclosure of the refresher or back closet or whatever they called that space. Poe sat heavily on the bed and looked at Hux. "Sorry."

"Hm."

Poe leaned in and offered a kiss. Hux stared at him for a second, not initially getting what he was doing. Then he realized and shared it hungrily. His eyes tracked Poe as Poe pulled back and moved to the rear compartment of the room. Hux's brows drew together. It remained amazing to him that such affection was so freely offered. He'd thought the offer of a blow job would have meant something, but the more he saw, the more he realized he hadn't given Poe anything rare or (probably) difficult for him to get. Even the droids apparently got it on here! "You must think me a naïve fool," Hux said.

There was water running in the other room. Poe popped his head around the half-partition. "No. I think you're in a very strange situation for you and you're doing the best you can." He turned his attention back to what he was doing. The water stopped. Poe returned with a wet cloth. He leaned in for another kiss. Hux was quicker on the uptake this time and no less eager to have it.

Poe peeled off the blanket from where it had stuck to Hux's belly, then dutifully and considerately scrubbed him clean. "Also," Poe said, "I am happy as a person can be that you've decided that the best you can do involves making love to me."

"Making love?" Hux squawked.

Poe finished cleaning him up. He threw the soiled blanket on the upper bunk where it had come from the start with. "What do you call it in the First Order?"

"We- We don't-" There were no words or phrases for friendly, non-transactional, non-committed sexual relations. It was so rare that all he had was the description.

"Call it what you want," Poe said. Hux blinked up at him. Was that what they had done? Was that why he felt so raw and changed inside? He was sure his emotions were parading across his face, doubly so when Poe politely changed the subject. "I think I have some pajamas that will fit you. How do you normally sleep?"

"Badly." Hux snorted, trying to get a grip on himself. "That will be fine. Thank you."

Poe nodded and pawed through a drawer, handing back a top and bottom that Hux changed into. "Do you kick or snore or something?"

Hux shook his head. "I just have trouble sleeping." After a pause he added, "I've … never slept with anyone. It … It isn't done."

Poe chuckled. "Well, you can sleep on the top bunk if you want. I can get another blanket."

"No. I … I do not want that." Hux helped himself to the tray of food Poe had brought in, eating it in a more normal and less sensual manner since he was feeding himself.

Poe returned the cloth to the other room. The droid beeped a question at him. In response, Poe said, "Yeah, he's staying the night." More beeps. "Uh-huh. Same guy." A downward-pitched whir and then a low whistle. "Well he's not the enemy _now_ , so treat him like that."

When Poe came back out, Hux asked, "I knew you didn't recondition your people in the Resistance, but not even the droids?"

"Nope, not unless they have some severe functionality problem or they ask for it. Just having a personality or an opinion isn't a crime." Poe sat next to him, snagging the last jogunberry for himself.

Hesitantly, Hux reached up and touched at his hair. It was not as soft as it looked, with the curls being determined to hold their shape. Poe cast a soft-eyed look at him that gave him those fluttery gut feelings again. Hux asked, "What are we allowed to do with one another?"

"Anything we want."

"Will you get in trouble? The droid will talk. You practically told it to."

Poe grimaced. "We'll find out tomorrow."

* * *

Maybe it was the lingering nature of his injuries. Maybe it was something near-magical about lying with another person. But Hux fell asleep as soon as they'd both tucked in and Poe signaled off the lights. He was woken from slumber by the blaring of an unfamiliar alarm. Poe rolled out of bed, grabbing a fresh flight suit out of the closet before he could have possibly been fully awake.

"What is it?" Hux asked. The last cycle had been far too many jarring, incomprehensible events. He'd had worse, he supposed, but events like those leading up to the Battle of Crait were the stuff of legends. Surviving that should have given him a measure of equanimity. Instead, it had left him jumpy and brittle.

"Lights," Poe called. Hux held up a hand to ward off the glare. Poe yanked on his clothes.

The intercom announced, "All pilots, report to the launch bay. All pilots-"

"Yeah, cut that off, BB." A moment later, the loudspeaker spiel ended. To Hux, Poe said, "Base is under attack. I have to go." He shoved his feet into boots. The droid beeped from the other end of the room. "Right," Poe told it. He grabbed his gun belt and glanced around as though double-checking that he wasn't forgetting anything. He turned to Hux, who was still sitting in bed, half covered by the blanket. "Stay here. You'll be safe." Poe grinned briefly. "Hopefully I'll be back by breakfast."

He was out the door, the droid with him. Hux found himself alone. He looked around the room. This was the perfect chance to escape. Or … to get some more sleep. He couldn't believe that he actually thought that. He shook his head at his own foolishness and stood, changing out of the pajamas and into the day clothes he'd been provided. They would make a useful cover as he figured out how to get himself out of wherever he was. He tried not to think about Poe.

The door snapped open without so much as a chime, catching Hux as he stood there holding the boots he'd just recovered from the end of the bed. Footwear was all he was lacking in being fully dressed. In the hallway were two people, a man and a woman. The woman was closer to the door. "Where's Commander Dameron?"

"On the flight deck," Hux answered after a slight pause to consider what he should say. The woman's expression flickered like that was the answer she was looking for. She reached for the door controls, but the man stepped around her.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Another pause to consider. "Poe's bedmate."

The guy took a step into the room, looking at the top bunk. It was rumpled from the used blanket. It made it look slept in. "No," the guy said. "You were up there. You can't fool me."

"Why does it matter?" the woman asked.

"He's that guy Gadsher mentioned," the man said. "Hux. The First Order general."

The ruse was up then. But Hux still had a few cards left to play. "I was left in Poe's custody."

"Yeah, well, Poe's not here right now," the man said in a threatening tone. Hux stiffened, thinking about how easy it would be to pull his knife from the boot in his hand and kill the man. But the woman was still out in the hallway, several strides away. Could he kill the man and get to her before she pulled the blaster at her hip? Before she simply shut the door in his face and called for help? The man said, "Besides, Poe wouldn't sleep with the likes of you." He laughed.

"It's _Poe_ ," the woman said promptly enough that Hux was insulted on Poe's behalf. Also, the irony that Hux had tried to use sex to blackmail the Resistance's most openly promiscuous member.

The man glanced back at her. "Well. Anyway. We can't leave him here. He needs to be in the brig."

"He told me to stay here," Hux asserted.

"His mistake, not mine," the man said, grabbing Hux's upper arm and hauling on him.

Hux did a quick calculation. The woman was stepping back, giving them room. He just didn't think he could cut up the man decisively enough to put him down and still get to her before she drew on him. She was too damnably professional, managing the distance between them and keeping a constant eye on him. Also, the man held onto him until he was in the hallway, then shoved him out in front.

Still clutching his boots, Hux stumbled along in front of them. It ran through his mind to try the ruse of saying he needed to put them on, but in the First Order that would get you kicked or shoved down, along with new orders to leave them behind. Guards did not care about the comfort of your feet, only that you were wasting their time. So he held them under his arm and tried not to draw attention to them.

He noticed the silence as he was marched to security – not of the guards, but of the entire base. He heard no concussive blasts, felt no tremors, saw no brightening or dimming of the lights that might indicate power absorption by shields or the oscillation of generators providing energy to weapons batteries. There was nothing to indicate the base itself was under attack (or at least, not under bombardment).

That opened other possibilities he busied his mind with – were they deep underground? Were they situated in a manner that they had plenty of advance warning before enemies closed with them? Was there a more obvious target for enemy action, like a nearby city, a different base, or a fleet of ships that might distract an enemy from bombing this base? Or this ship, if they were actually on a ship or space station instead of a planet?

He probably should have been paying more attention to where he was being taken, but that only occurred to him when he was shoved into a seat in a small office and redundantly told, "Sit."

"Who's that?" asked a new male guard, sizing him up. Hux assumed these were guards. He was well-schooled enough in military lore that he could have picked out rank and department on a Rebel uniform, but the Resistance accoutrements were a chaotic mess that would have put pirate gangs to shame, especially after Crait. The man in question swiveled away from a monitoring station of some kind to address them. Perhaps he was a supervisor. He had more bars on his chest than either of Hux's escorts, so that must mean something.

"Guess!" demanded the male guard who had arrested him. It wasn't a tone Hux would have taken with a superior, but, again, who knew with the Resistance?

The other looked bored. "Just tell me."

The woman said, "I need to finish the muster check. You guys got this?" The two men nodded. She left.

"General Armit Hux of the First Order," the first guard said, unable to contain himself. Hux looked at him sharply for the mangling of his name, but there was nothing mocking in the man's comportment. He genuinely didn't know. There was no special reason why he would, just as Hux wasn't an expert on their uniforms.

Apparently the guard supervisor knew enough to know something was off. "Armit, huh?" He turned and tapped a few keys.

It was enough that the first guard asked, "What?"

"It's Armitage," the supervisor read off the screen, managing to mispronounce it even though he had it spelled out right in front of him. Also, not mocking. Just matter-of-factly wrong.

"Oh," the first guard said, looking disappointed and embarrassed. "Well, he's still the same guy!" He swiped the boots from Hux's hands. "Give me those!"

Hux made an exasperated, frustrated noise, grabbing after them instinctively but not leaving the chair. He had managed to hang onto his weapons throughout this entire ordeal, declined to stab a number of people (including this idiot), and _now_ he was going to lose them, because some jerk was angry about his own ignorance and retaliating by robbing him?

"Oh-ho-ho, what have we here?" the guard said. The knives were not concealed if you had the boots in your hand. They artificially stiffened the inside of the leg and lent weight to it that wasn't explained by the synth-leather. So of course, he found them immediately. "Weapons!" He showed the knives to the supervisor, who gestured at the desk next to him. He dropped the boots on the desk.

The supervisor asked, "What were you doing carrying those around?" He got out a set of binders.

"They were allowed!" Hux said, answering the first question that had been addressed to him.

"Allowed?" the first guard asked as he took the binders from the supervisor. He cuffed Hux's hands in front of him.

"By who?" the supervisor wanted to know.

"Commander Dameron. The doctor …" He didn't know her last name. He didn't know who anyone was! These people did not do introductions to the point that he wondered if it was some odd cultural thing.

"Commander Dameron," the first guard scoffed. He backhanded Hux across the top of the head. It didn't hurt much. It was hardly anything. But Hux knew what it was. It was a testing blow, to see what he could get away with, to see what Hux would do, and most importantly, to see what his supervisor would do.

Hux didn't see that he had much choice here except to take it, with two burly men, his weapons across the room, hands bound, and his pulse drumming too fast in his ears. He looked to the supervisor, who leaned back in his seat and smirked. Frag. That was exactly the reaction Hux didn't want to see. Hux sunk further in his chair, letting his gaze shift to the first guard, who'd seen the permission just like Hux had.

The guard went on, "The guy whose quarters you were in. The guy," he turned to his supervisor, "who left you alone and unaccompanied, armed and dangerous, in the middle of a full alert – an enemy, sent here to infiltrate us. And here we are, infiltrated!"

"He's a weird choice for a spy," the supervisor observed thoughtfully.

The guard turned back to Hux, raising his hand in warning of a blow. "What were you really here for?" Hux didn't answer. The doctor had said he wasn't to be interrogated. But he couldn't tell them which doctor. And did it even matter? When he didn't answer, he was backhanded across the face. He'd expected that, as he expected the man's furious, "Tell us!" Even though he'd flinched with the blow, he tasted his own blood.

Curiously, being hit didn't make his condition significantly worse. It seemed to be the tension in general that did that, or so Hux surmised. And being hit? Well, that wasn't new. He retreated into intellectualizing everything as he always did when he couldn't really fight back. Oh, he supposed he _could_ fight back. And he might at some point if it seemed helpful, but right now the only thing he could think to do was minimize meaningful injury.

Speaking of which, the guard was looking at his knuckles. One of them was bleeding. He scowled at it. The supervisor said in a bored tone, "You need to use gloves. Or slap him with the meaty side of your hand. You keep hitting him like that and you'll hurt yourself on his teeth."

Hux shot the supervisor an unhappy look. It did not bode well that he knew how to do this. He licked at the split part of his lip. Maybe it would help to see if he could set them against one another. Hux said, "He's letting _you_ beat me so _he_ doesn't get his hands dirty." That got him a slap. It stung, rocked his world, and wrenched his neck some, but that was it. Unlike the backhand, his lip didn't hurt from it.

He felt tired. Just … tired. He rolled his eyes, which was stupid because it provoked the guard to up the ante. The man stepped on his sock-clad foot with his booted one, bearing down hard. Hux yelped and jumped but it didn't help – his foot was pinned.

The man grabbed his throat and shoved him backwards in the chair, leaning into Hux's foot so hard it felt like the bones shifted and popped. Adrenaline spiked through him, washing away the disinterest and reminding him of the acute danger involved with not minding his reactions around someone like this.

The man said, "Maybe I _like_ getting my hands dirty. Huh? You ever think of that? On a piece of scum like you? You wiped out an entire star system. Billions of people! And I get to say I hurt you? I made you bleed? I made you suffer?" He spat in Hux's face intentionally, the saliva wet and hot and disgusting, then he twisted his boot until something crunched under it and Hux yelped again in pain.

He grabbed at the man's blaster. Fuck it. He didn't care what happened next. These were amateurs (or at least the one hurting him was) and he was going to be severely and permanently damaged if he didn't stop this. Somehow.

He didn't even manage to get it out of its holster. He did, of course, obviously telegraph his intentions. The supervisor shot to his feet and the other guard jumped back, blessedly releasing his foot. A moment later the guard jumped in to hit him solidly in the side of the face with a fist. Hux reeled in the chair, raising his bound hands to block his face from further blows. That one had hurt – the punch had been way harder than any slap or backhand, thunking against him and rattling his brain. He felt dizzy almost as an afterthought.

He was hit in the gut, then slammed back into the chair when he doubled over. He was slapped again. He brought his hands up. They were hit. He brought them higher, covering his head. They were grabbed and yanked down so the guard could hit him in the face again. None of these were serious injuries – the guy really was an amateur at this and they were basically slap-fighting. But it was clear the moment he got an opening, he was going to hurt Hux badly. With the jerk's attention on smacking him in the face, this time Hux did get the guy's blaster.

A thrill of joy ran through him as the weapon cleared the holster. But it was pointed down and angled badly and his hands were bound. He jerked the blaster close to himself and tried to right it. The guard fell back a step – the same instinctive reaction as before, clutching uselessly at his now-empty holster. His eyes were big. He froze in terror and probably dread of having to pay for his actions.

If it had just been him, Hux could have killed him. Just like in Poe's quarters, the complicating factor was the second person. Before he got the barrel lined up on his target, it was yanked out of his hands by the supervisor. He was whacked across the face with the heavy end of the gun – the battery pack and grip. The unforgiving metal gouged his flesh and sent him wincing back. For a moment he thought he'd lost an eye. It hurt in that dull, sore way an eyeball shouldn't. He cringed into the chair, blinking furiously with his teeth bared and knees pulled up to his chest so his feet were off the floor.

"I'll kill him!" the guard roared, brave now that he realized he wasn't about to die.

"Stop!" The supervisor grabbed the guard as he started forward. The guard let himself be shoved back against the wall, pretending to put up a fuss. Hux didn't believe that. Seeing Hux with his blaster had terrified the bully. He didn't want anything to do with Hux right now and was happy to be pushed away from him. "Leave him be!" the supervisor ordered.

"I want my blaster!" The guard looked uneasily between Hux and his supervisor.

"Nah, I got it," the supervisor said. He turned to look steadily at Hux, who remained huddled defensively in the chair. Both of his eyes were working, so that was a blessing. The supervisor was still holding the blaster by the barrel. He took a single long step closer. Hux shrank in on himself as much as possible, hunching his shoulders and folding his arms over his head. This man was not an amateur and Hux did not want to demonstrate defiance in any way. The man lifted the butt end of the gun, not high enough as though he was going to hit him again, but enough to make sure Hux knew who was in charge.

At that moment, the door slid open. The woman guard outside finished a sentence, saying, "-here."

Beside her was Poe Dameron. "What the hells?" The scene he'd walked in on was damning – Hux cringing, bleeding, battered and huddled; the supervisor with a blaster backwards in his hand, raised as though to strike. Poe didn't wait for an answer to his startled question. He launched himself forward, his fist smacking into the supervisor's cheek as the man turned toward him.

The supervisor staggered back and sideways, falling on the arm of Hux's chair and the small counter next to it, knees buckling from the force of the blow. The blaster fell loose on the counter out of nerveless fingers. It was in reach. Hux considered it, then decided there was more value in him preserving an aura of innocence in Poe's eyes. He flinched away from the man. That much he didn't have to fake.

Poe wasn't done with him, though, grabbing the supervisor's shoulder and trying to pull him up for another round. At that, the two guards finally snapped out of their surprise and worked together to seize Poe from behind, one on each arm. They pulled him back away from their boss, who recovered the blaster and his feet. Poe struggled, but couldn't shake them off.

Hux lowered his feet and leaned forward, eyeing the blaster on the supervisor's hip, and then Poe. He thought Poe gave a shake of his head, but it was hard to tell. Nevertheless, Hux decided to let this play out. He stayed where he was, hands joined over his midsection.

The supervisor waited until Poe stopped fighting, then said, "He stole this blaster and tried to kill one of my officers." He lifted the blaster to display it.

"I don't believe that!" Poe spat immediately, not giving it the least credence.

"It's the truth," the supervisor insisted.

Poe looked past him pointedly, locking eyes with Hux. The supervisor turned to look at him as well. Hux said, "I didn't start fighting until they broke bones."

"Now that sounds like the truth," Poe said.

"He wouldn't answer questions," the supervisor said.

The male guard said, "Who are you going to believe, him or us?"

Hux thought he heard Poe say, 'Him', but he was talked over by the woman who jerked her head at Poe and said, "He said General Organa wanted him – the prisoner."

"This is going to be hard to explain to her," Poe said threateningly. "If she wanted him beaten, she would have said so!"

"I've _already_ explained," the supervisor answered. "And she'll get the same explanation."

Poe flexed suddenly, taking both the guards by surprise and shaking them off at once. They didn't grab him again right away. Other than throwing them off, Poe didn't immediately move. He just stared down their boss. He growled, "I have my orders, from the general herself!"

"I suppose you do," the supervisor said after a beat, moving aside.

Poe came forward to Hux, looking him over quickly and checking the binders. Over his shoulder, he snapped to the supervisor, "Keys!"

The supervisor handed off the blaster to the male guard, who leveled it at Hux. Poe saw that and deliberately stepped to the side, putting his body between Hux and any bolt. Hux felt like the pit of his stomach fell out at that unnecessarily gallant act. His eyes burned despite his attempt to tell himself that Poe didn't have anything to fear about being shot.

He stroked the top of Poe's hand with a few fingers. Poe met his eyes briefly, then looked behind to see what was taking so long. The supervisor was taking his own sweet time to dig the key from his pocket, then toss the device in Poe's general direction. Poe caught it out of the air with a long reach.

Poe released the binders. Hux put his feet on the floor and levered himself up on the uninjured foot. Poe started to move away. Hux said, "No. I- I need help." The room was stable enough – not spinning with dizziness - although it felt a little unreal. Poe shot a look at the security people, who stood together silently. The woman was with them, but had the grace to look thoroughly confused about the overall turn of events.

Hux gritted his teeth and managed to hobble as gracefully as he could to the supervisor's desk, where he retrieved his boots, knives still in them. He sneered at the guards and walked out, his foot aching with each step. When the door shut behind them, Hux sagged. Poe seemed to have been watching for this; he seamlessly inserted himself under Hux's arm, put a hand around his waist, and steered them down the hallway.

Apparently, it was not far to Poe's quarters. It had seemed further earlier, or maybe they'd taken a different route. He didn't know, or care. They'd just reached the door when Finn and that woman came trotting down the corridor. Finn called out, "General Organa said to- What happened to him?"

"Oh," the woman breathed out, brows knitted.

"I know what she said," Poe answered and opened the door with his free hand. Hux hobbled inside. Poe sat him on the edge of the bed. "Security got hold of him. Officer Zamil." Poe looked up at Finn. "Go tell her I found him, he's been hurt, I'll get him there as soon as I can. I understand the urgency."

"Urgency?" Hux asked.

Finn nodded, shot Hux a concerned look, and left. Poe turned to the woman. "Rose, can you find us a hover-chair? Medbay should have one."

"I can do that," she nodded. She, too, left.

"Rose? That's her name?" Hux asked.

"Yeah?"

"You've hardly introduced me to anyone. Everyone is just 'this person' or 'that person' in my head. I don't know anyone."

Poe chuckled. "Okay, sorry. Stay put there. I'll get something to wipe up some of that blood." He went behind the partial partition and wet a cloth. "You said broken bones. Are those in your foot?"

"Yes."

"Anywhere else?" Poe returned with the cloth. He lifted Hux's chin gently.

"No. Maybe my face, but I don't think so."

"Looks like you were gouged up pretty bad here." He wiped away the blood that was still wet from where Hux's face had been cut by some sharp edge on the butt end of the blaster. "Now, take it as a given that I believe you and not them, but … what happened?"

"They found me here. They took me there. The male guard who held you back wanted to hurt me because of the Hosnian system. So he did. I never found out the motivation of the other, but he joined in after I tried to fight."

Poe sighed. He slowly brushed hair from Hux's forehead and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on a bit of unhurt skin. "I'm sorry. That isn't who the Resistance is." He sank to one knee and examined the spots where blood had dripped onto Hux's clothing. Hux knew there were no injuries beneath the fabric, but Poe didn't, so he checked.

"To the contrary," Hux told him, "both this Rose and the doctor earlier openly stated they preferred me dead, and you've kept my identity secret from the rest because you knew I wouldn't be welcomed. Not that I thought I should be."

"The doctor?"

"Kalonia, you said her name was? The one who made us leave the medbay."

"No, that wasn't Dr. Kalonia. That was, uh, Cassama Gadsher. I don't know her rank."

"Gadsher. She's the one who told the guards who I was. Or at least told the man. Not Zamil, but the other one. What's his name?"

"Actually, I don't know who he is either. The Resistance has ended up with a whole lot of new recruits lately and I've spent most of my time out on missions or hanging with the other pilots and flight crews. I don't know … most of these people. I don't know what they're capable of. I didn't know they were capable of _this_."

Hux petted his hand, his wrist, and a bit of forearm he could touch. Poe sighed and shut his eyes. Hux reached up and touched the side of his neck. He'd left quite the bite mark there. "Strange to think this was only a few hours ago. I enjoyed my time with you," Hux said softly. Poe shivered. "What does the general want of me?"

"Not the general," Poe said. "Well, actually, yes, but it's the First Order. They're here. _They_ want you."

"What? Me? How did they find me? Was there a tracker in my …" He looked suspiciously at the boots sitting innocently next to him on the bed. He'd had one on Ren for years under the assumption the man knew about it and did nothing. Shortly after becoming supreme leader, Ren's wardrobe had changed and the tracker went nonfunctional. Had he really only discovered it then and decided turnabout was fair play? Then again, there could have been a second homing signal in the life pod. He didn't know. It didn't matter. They were here.

"Well, maybe," Poe said, frowning briefly at the boots. "But it's a good thing for you. Kylo Ren said there was a plot against him and you had turned out to be the only one in his High Command who wouldn't join it. They couldn't kill you without him noticing, so they put you out in a life pod where by the time you died, they'd have overthrown him. From what I gather, that didn't work out so well for them."

"Oh? Well, that's good news."

Poe chuckled once. "Is it? Huh. Yeah, I suppose it would be."

"But who leaked my location then? It had to have happened. I don't believe you found me by coincidence."

"He did. The impression I had was he knew about the coup all along and was letting it happen to see who was loyal and who wasn't. He sent us … word that we should go to certain coordinates, but we didn't know it was him and we wouldn't have done it if we had. It took a long time to verify the source was solid and we never did – eventually we went anyway. We found your life pod and nothing else. We thought it was a trap, but there were life signs. So I brought it back."

"That must have been part of why you didn't classify me as a prisoner immediately. You knew there was something unusual going on."

"Yeah, something. But you weren't talking either and Dr. Kalonia said not to make you talk – she thought your brain might be scrambled. How's your head, anyway?"

"Fine. It rings – about what you would expect from being hit in the face repeatedly. No more than that." He was underplaying things a bit, but it wasn't worth mentioning. He'd only been hit solidly twice – once with a fist and once with the blaster. The rest, he'd managed to block or roll with one way or another.

"Anyway, the First Order found our base. I would … assume Kylo Ren has been rethinking things, because he didn't open fire on us. He wanted to talk. And he did, some. So maybe there's hope."

"Hope?" Hux touched Poe's stubbled cheek. "But I have to go back. I should be ecstatic at the opportunity to return." His voice was anything but ecstatic. He swallowed and his brows drew together. Whatever expression his face was trying to adopt, it hurt. There was a lump in his throat. He was going to miss this man, those short moments together, that ephemeral illusion that it could go on beyond a single encounter. He let out a shuddery breath.

Poe stroked his thighs. "I'm sorry. I told Leia … I'd see if I could win you over. I didn't think it would be real."

"Is it? Real?" That stabbed even deeper. He'd suspected there was something up – putting him in Poe's unsupervised care like that was just too strange, even for the Resistance. But if they'd thought Poe could charm him into defecting like he had with Finn, then it made a little sense. Hux had just pre-empted the process by trying to enact his own subversion.

"It is," Poe said earnestly, rubbing above his knees. "It is." He smiled brokenly. "I want you to know that. But I think you're right. You're not safe here. I think the-" The door chimed. Poe glanced at it, then back at Hux. Hux wiped his eyes and tried to tell himself they were watering because his face hurt so much. He felt achy and hot all over. His features particularly felt swollen and tight.

Poe kissed his forehead again as he stood. Hux breathed out heavily and tried to keep his breath from hitching. This was stupid, anyway, he told himself. He was going back to the Order, where he'd been intending to escape to before the guards found him. Why was it so much harder to do when Poe was here?

Poe opened the door. It was Rose with a hoverchair. She looked soberly between the two of them. "Is … well, everything's clearly _not_ alright. What can I do?"

"Here, hold his boots." Poe picked them up from the bed and handed them to her, then helped Hux up. Rather than letting himself be passively moved to the chair, Hux put his arms around Poe and hugged him, burying his hurting face against Poe's neck. He held him tight, not caring if she saw or heard him sniffle. Poe didn't hurry him. He just held him back and swayed gently. "I'm going to miss you."

Hux nodded and finally sank into the chair. Rose handed over his boots. If she'd seen the knives, she made no comment about them. They headed to the hangar where a First Order shuttle was supposed to meet them.


	6. Third Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Hux wins.

When they arrived, General Organa gave Hux a very long look. He was dry-eyed by then, but his face had to look a mess between the emotion, the swelling, bruising, split lip, and a laceration or two. She turned her eyes on Poe. Poe said, "I forgot the new security protocol to make sure everything was locked down during an alert. They were doing a room-to-room and found him."

"So Finn said," she replied. "This doesn't look good. We were _trying_ to negotiate galactic peace. Handing him back is an important part of it."

Poe winced. "And this kriffed it up?"

"We'll see," she said.

"I'm alive," Hux said. "That's all that matters." Poe patted his shoulder and left his hand there when he was done. Hux asked, "Who did he send to negotiate something like that?"

"He came himself," the general said.

"He did?" Poe sounded surprised.

"He did." She didn't say more, but her expression was thoughtful. She tilted her head at the door meaningfully. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," Hux said. "Yes, of course." There was no point to delaying here, loathe as he was to move while Poe was touching him. That was stupidly sentimental, he told himself. He'd said his good-byes. It was done; he needed to leave. He directed the chair through the doors. Poe and General Organa walked with him.

The hatch of the crouching _Upsilon_ -class shuttle opened well before they neared it. Ren came out first, followed by two guards who, for security reasons, should have preceded him. Hux knew Ren himself had likely declined to follow protocol and no trooper was going to tell him he couldn't. He came out and peered at Hux, who raised himself from the seat. He could walk if he had to and he would to rejoin the Order.

Ren's gaze shifted to General Organa. His expression was not pleased – it was a betrayed glower. She said, "There was an incident."

"I see that," Ren said, his tone scathing. Until this moment, Hux hadn't internalized the importance of Ren coming back for him. He had a value. By refusing to participate in the coup, he'd proven himself somewhat. He mattered.

"Poe dealt with the malefactors," Hux said, which wasn't entirely true but it would get the pressure off them – off Poe at least. The villains had gotten off scot-free, although Hux strongly suspected Leia Organa was not done with them. If she was anything like her son, or the rumors Hux had heard, then she was _definitely_ not done with them.

Ren looked between the three of them. The air was charged with tension until he seemed to accept the situation. He walked back to the ramp, before turning to watch Hux's uneven, strained progress in following him in sock-clad feet, one of which hurt abominably with each step.

He supposed he should have parked the chair a little closer. It unfortunately gave him time to think about Poe watching him, supporting him, guiding him, as he had through the day. Poe was watching him right now, he knew. He was a step or two away from the bottom of the ramp when he had an idea. He stopped, looking up at Ren.

In a low voice designed not to carry, Hux said, "You came back for me because you need me. _I_ need something."

"What?" Ren looked irritated.

"I need something," Hux repeated. " _We_ need something, if these talks of peace are not a farce. Are they?"

Ren's brows lowered. "No," he said, voice low but there was really no other answer he could give here on enemy territory.

Hux knew that. He was counting on it. "Then give me this, unless you wish to take things up with your mother every time you have a question."

Ren's head jerked back a centimeter in displeasure, but he didn't say anything. Hux took that as agreement, or at least permission to proceed. He turned to where Poe and General Organa were waiting next to the hover chair. Now was time for the difficult part (as though maneuvering the supreme leader of the First Order, a mind reader and notoriously volatile, had been the easy part). Hux extended his free hand toward them. "Poe?"

"Yes?" Poe took two steps forward, looking at him uncertainly and at the outstretched hand. He glanced back at the general, then closed the distance and took Hux's hand, trying to shake it.

Hux didn't shake it. He squeezed lightly and held it in place. He had to know if it was real. He had to know if Poe had been telling the truth. Hux couldn't walk away from what he'd had for just a few short hours and always wonder if there hadn't been a way to have more. "Come with me."

Poe's eyes widened. "To the … You mean, join the First Order?" His eyes widened further. His grip loosened, but Hux didn't let go. "Right now?"

Behind him, Hux heard Ren stir slightly. Hux said, "'Joining' wouldn't be necessary. Besides, defection is dishonorable. I wouldn't ask that of you."

"Um …"

Hux caressed his hand, thumb stroking the back of it. "If peace is important – to you, or your general – this is a path to it. We need an ambassador between the First Order and the Resistance. A diplomat. We have them with other governments and consortiums. It would be a regular position with an established protocol. You needn't fear being dragged from bed in the middle of the night and beaten by security."

"I'm … well, yeah."

"You will advocate for your people and your cause in ways no one else can. Honorably." This time, Ren did not stir. This, too, Hux took to be agreement and permission.

Poe looked down at where Hux was caressing his hand. He brought up his other hand, clasping Hux's in both of his.

"You said it was real." Hux's voice finally betrayed a tremor, unable to suppress the emotion. He pressed his lips together tightly.

Poe looked back at Leia, who was watching the two of them closely. She shrugged at him and made a small turn of her head, like it sounded like a good idea, but she wasn't going to order it. Poe said to Hux, "I'm a … really, really bad diplomat."

Hux swallowed and managed to keep his voice level. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here to be returned. You are a credit to your side."

Poe looked at General Organa again. She came a few paces forward said slowly, "If you think you'll be safe, I could use someone I trusted as an intermediary. To build on," she glanced at Ren, "what we've already established here."

Hux released his hand, straightening his fingers. Poe was still holding it in both of his hands. Poe looked to him. Hux said, "It's up to you."

"Okay," he said in a small voice. "Should I go back and pack?"

Ren spoke. "Your needs will be covered. Appropriate arrangements will be made."

"Let him pack," Hux said. "Surely we can wait?"

Ren didn't look thrilled, but he made a dismissive wave of his hand.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately, the walls are basically soundproof and Hux doesn't have any droids to snitch on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the prologue, this chapter is from Poe's point of view.

Poe stood in the hallway of the officer's quarters of the Finalizer. It felt odd to be here unescorted, even though he'd been told there was surveillance everywhere and not to let his guard down in public. He was beginning to get a sense of how much of a culture shock Hux had to have been going through on the Resistance base. He pressed the button for the door, waiting to see if there was an answer.

"Come in," he heard Hux's voice. The door slid back a moment later.

Poe entered, making a loose gesture to himself to show off his new duds - the dark grey that he'd been told passed as casual clothes in the First Order. "There you are," he said, with the tone that conveyed he'd been looking a while.

"These are my quarters. Why didn't you check here first?"

Poe grinned at the reprising of his own words from the day before. He pulled over a seat to the couch Hux was reclining on. The man was back in uniform and had a datapad on his lap.

Hux gestured to his foot which was in a bacta boot, elevated on the arm of the couch, then to a monitor fixed to his upper arm. "Between this and the monitor, I won't be getting far. Standard policy would have me strapped down in medbay for the next three days, but I overrode it. As long as I do nothing that sets off the alerts, I'm allowed to take bed rest in my quarters instead."

"What sets off the alerts?"

"I don't know. Certain combinations of vital signs that indicate a period of confusion, dizziness, and syncope. From my experiences on your base, I would say emotional stress and agitation. Mere exertion is not enough, as … our activities didn't do it, nor did the beating."

Poe regarded his features. He didn't look like a man who'd taken a beating less than a day earlier. "Whatever they did for you in medbay sure took the swelling down."

"Is it still bruised?" Hux reached up to touch his cheekbone and chin. "They're still sore, but not nearly as bad."

Poe nodded. "Some. Three days?"

"Two and a half at this point, I assume. How did your day go? Are you done?"

"With today's schedule, yeah. I met with security. They got my biometrics and scanned me into the system. They made me sit through a couple hours of safety stuff – how to evacuate the ship, what the alarms meant, uniforms, proper authorization, and so on. I have a book of regulations to read. Does anyone actually read those? Are they important?"

Hux snorted. "Yes, they are important. You _must_ read them."

Poe groaned. He was not good at reading, but knowing how things were supposed to work was key to his new job. "I will then. Eventually. But after they gave me that, I met someone from whatever the diplomatic arm is – I missed the name of the department – but we didn't talk very long. Nice woman, but I don't think Kylo Ren has filled her in yet on what I'm going to be doing. Which is fine. I doubt he knows either at this point. Last was with the quartermaster to get stuff." He gestured at his clothes. "They set up my room down the hall like you asked."

"Good." Hux cleared his throat. "I, um, I requisitioned a bigger bed. For, well, I told them with the bed rest I would need it. It was delivered this afternoon."

Poe glanced at the archway that led to the less public part of Hux's quarters. He'd gotten a bigger bed because he wanted to share it. Hux was crushing on him _hard_ and Poe … Poe was charmed by it. Hux was surprisingly easy to be with so far. "Is … sleeping together … something else that's restricted to married couples?"

Hux cleared his throat again. "Yes. Technically. It's in that book of regulations you were given."

"Great," Poe said, less than enthused. Well, there was one straight-forward way to get around that particular stupid prohibition. "Wanna get married?"

Hux blushed as red as he'd been when he came. He burst out, "How is it so easy for you to say that? You ask like it's inconsequential!"

Poe laughed lightly and put a hand on Hux's forearm. "Okay, okay. Don't get upset. You'll have the med-droids in here carting you away." He loved how easy it was to get Hux going and noted down that for Hux, this was not 'inconsequential'. It was important. And he hadn't said no. Poe smiled slyly.

Hux slumped back on the pillows, eyes wet like the proposition might bring him to tears. He was breathing too hard and probably trying to get a grip on himself.

Poe didn't want to push him. "So, um," Poe said, looking around for something to change the subject to. "In the meantime, I suppose I could take late consultations from you on culture and the political situation and so on." Meaning, yes, he was game for continuing their relationship in secret.

"Yes."

"Yes to the consultations, or yes to the …?"

"Yes to both," Hux said firmly.

Poe felt a thrill pass over him. A victory. He squeezed Hux's forearm. "I'm pretty good at sticking a landing, Hugs. We'll make it work. Together." The plan he'd hurriedly laid out to Leia when they were in the medbay and Hux was newly brought back to life was that she'd let him try to persuade the general to defect, thus giving them valuable intel on the First Order. This was so much better – he was a spy embedded (heh) with the Order. If he could make this work right, they could end the war with less loss of life.

Poe slid his hand down to take Hux's, then bent to kiss the back of it. Hux swallowed noisily. His eyes were wet again when Poe looked up at him. "Thank you." He kissed his hand again. "I suppose this is a rude question, but when you sent me back to pack, was that so I'd make sure to swipe that bottle of lube?"

Hux blushed again, almost as red as before. Poe grinned toothily at the confirmation. After a beat, Hux said, "Did you?"

"I picked up a couple extras, too."

"You're a smart man."

Poe liked to think so.


End file.
